


Please Come Home (I'll Be Home for Christmas)

by AnnaKnitsSpock



Series: Please Come Home Series [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Bonding, But also BAMF Jim, Christmas, Fix-It, Holidays, Jealous Spock, K/S Advent Calendar 2015, M/M, Nexus - Freeform, Possessive Spock, Smut, Star Trek: Generations, Vulnerable Jim, Winter, generations fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:16:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaKnitsSpock/pseuds/AnnaKnitsSpock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jim comes back from the dead, Spock stops talking to him. Lonely and in love with his unattainable first officer, Jim seeks the other Spock on New Vulcan. Desperate for his own Jim, Spock is more than willing to reciprocate and a happy, if unexpected, affair begins. But when the younger Spock finds out what his Captain has been up to, Jim will have to choose between the two versions of his beloved Vulcan.</p><p>But no Spock is meant to be without a Kirk—and Jim will do what it takes to make sure the Old Man isn't alone, even if he has to navigate the unpredictable landscape of the Nexus himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the 2015 [K/S Advent calendar](http://www.ksadvent.livejournal.com). Thanks as always to Ashley and Amanda for organizing my favorite holiday tradition! All of the Christmas stuff takes place in Part Two.
> 
> Beta read by the lovely [AshayaTReldai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AshayaTReldai/pseuds/AshayaTReldai), whom I had the absolute pleasure of meeting at this year's KisCon. Thank you so very much, my dear, you made this story a million times better!
> 
>  **Vulcan Glossary for Part One**  
>  kolinahr: the discipline of total logic and the purging of all emotions  
> na’shaya: greeting  
> thruhk-neshuhk: foul parasite  
> Is-fam-rikanashik oluhk: useless, impotent (literally infertile) snake  
> ashal-veh: darling person  
>  _Source:[Vulcan Language Dictionary](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/)_

Distantly, Spock heard the doorbell chime. He drifted slowly up from the depths of meditation, his awareness sharpening—sights, sounds, and other sensory input coming gradually into focus.

It took longer than it once had for Spock to come out of meditation. By the time he succeeded, the chiming doorbell had been replaced by an insistent knocking. Surprised, Spock rose, somewhat stiffly. He knew of only one individual who could knock so adamantly, and he was not expecting him.

As Spock opened the door and met Jim Kirk’s stormy face, he could not suppress the flutter in his side, or the ache in his mind, for that matter.

“Jim! This is a most pleasant surprise.”

Jim pushed past him without invitation.

“Yeah. I’m here. Hope that’s okay.” He disappeared into the small house and Spock heard him flop into a chair in the sitting room. Spock followed and gently lowered himself into the seat opposite, taking in the sight of Jim slumped low in his chair, arms slung over the sides.

“You are always welcome, Jim. Your presence is never an intrusion.”

Jim met Spock’s eyes and his face, turbulent and dark, suddenly softened. He slipped from the chair onto the floor and leaned into Spock’s legs, cheek against the bend of his knee. Spock automatically began to thread his fingers in Jim’s hair, feeling the tension in the young man’s muscles seep away under his touch.

“They gave me back the ship,” Jim muttered, “and they gave me the mission.”

“I am gratified.”

Jim lifted his head and stared Spock down. “I’m scared.”

His face was hard, daring Spock to be judgmental or discouraging. Spock ran the back of one finger against Jim’s cheek, traced his eyebrows, one of his sweet round ears.

“I would expect nothing less. Nine months ago you experienced a traumatic death and rebirth, and you are now facing a tremendous amount of responsibility. A temporary loss of confidence is understandable.”

Jim rolled his eyes. In every universe, he hated when Spock comforted him with logic, and yet frequently sought such reassurance anyway. Inefficient, and so very human. Jim dropped his cheek against Spock’s leg again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t fair to you. But I need you. We have two more weeks of leave and then I have 400 people to keep alive.”

Spock was 158 years old; he did not even bother trying to suppress a sigh. Despite having been the one to initiate this romantic relationship, Jim expressed such worries every time they were together. Perhaps he sensed, through his own intuition or through lapses in Spock’s telepathic shields, that Spock’s reassurances about his emotional well-being were spectacular lies.

“Jim, as I have said before, whatever happens between us is a comfort to me. I am aware that your romantic regard is not for myself, but for my counterpart. When he comes to return your feelings, I do not imagine he will take kindly to you wandering off into my bed whenever you are granted leave, nor should he. Whatever time I am able to spend with you, in any capacity, is a luxury I did not expect.”

Jim rubbed his cheek against Spock’s knee. “I know. I just… I know how much you miss him.”

“I have missed him for more than a century. Clearly it has not yet resulted in my death.”

Jim huffed a small, sad laugh into the fabric of Spock’s robe.

“I’m still pretty sure the younger you is never going to ‘return my feelings.’ Even if he did, though, I want you to know… how much you mean to me. And stuff. Do you know that?”

Spock smiled ever so slightly. “Yes, Jim. I know that. Now please proceed to my bedroom and allow me to care for you.”

\---

Spock stirred sugar into Jim’s coffee. He was by now aware that Jim’s appreciation of sweets spanned universes, and so he was generous. As he added a splash of milk, he heard Jim call sleepily, “Hey, old man, where are you? You don’t strike me as a fuck-and-run kind of guy.”

Spock returned to the bedroom with their drinks. Jim had just woken up and was sitting in bed naked, hair tousled, lips still swollen from last night. Spock held out one cup, permitting himself a long, luxurious look at Jim’s youthful body. “Certainly not with you, Jim.”

Jim smirked as he took the mug, their fingers touching. “Dirty old Vulcan.”

Spock placed his tea on the bedside table and slipped into bed. Jim smiled at him over the rim of his cup and absently rubbed their hands together while he took a few long sips.

“You always know just how I like my coffee,” he murmured.

Spock allowed himself a few minutes to pretend that things were as they once were, his Jim safe in their bed, Vulcan whole and thriving. He closed his eyes and was easily able to slip into memories of so many mornings like this—Jim’s warm skin, the smell of coffee, the lazy promise of further sexual activity.

But Jim’s restless emotions were drifting in at the juncture of their hands, and eventually Spock was forced to return to reality. Jim was gazing off into the distance, lost in thought.

Spock squeezed his hand. “Jim, I can assure you that you will excel as captain during the _Enterprise_ ’s five-year mission. I have personally collected much observational data to support this hypothesis.”

Jim’s eyes came back into focus and he smiled, if a little hesitantly. “Thanks, Spock. I hope I can prove you right.” He emptied his cup in one swig and leaned over to put it on the nightstand, kissing Spock as he did. His mouth was warm and slightly bitter from the coffee. “I’m going to miss flying to New Vulcan all the time to see you, though.” 

“I too will miss the regular opportunity to be together. But I will be happy knowing that you are fulfilling your destiny. And undoubtedly the _Enterprise_ will visit the colony often enough. Although I am certain that you will be in a relationship with my counterpart before you have completed your first year in space.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Can we not talk about him? He’s still an ice cube. Whatever made him have such an emotional response to me dying, he didn’t like it. We’re as distant with each other as we were after the _Narada_.”

Jim repeated a variation of this statement at least three times on every visit. Spock's answer was always the same, as was the rush of guilty memories of Gol that assaulted him when he gave that answer.

“He has realized the true depth of his feelings for you. It is logical that he would experience a period of crippling self-doubt, of trying to control and bury such powerful emotions.”

“You know, you tell us all the time that we aren’t the same as you and your Jim, but you seem pretty damn sure that our relationship will follow the exact same path.”

“Certainly not. Your path has already diverged from ours. But the love that is between us is… constant. I do not believe it can be avoided.”

Jim smiled at him, fond and exasperated. “When you talk about me, all your logic flies right out the window.”

Spock put his tea aside and reached out to pull Jim into his lap, Jim’s thighs tight around him, knees dipping into the bed. “I admit that I cannot refute that statement, Jim.” He ran his hands through Jim’s hair, greedily, roughly, memorizing the way it glittered in the desert light drifting in from the window. Jim tilted his head and pressed his mouth against Spock’s cheekbone, grinding his already-eager penis against Spock’s stomach. 

“Tell me I’m yours,” he whispered, wave after wave of emotion rolling off his skin into Spock— _lust/fear/arrogance/defensiveness/self-doubt/protect me/protect me/don’t leave me_ —and Spock took hold of his hips, pulling their bodies closer together with sufficient force to hurt just enough.

“You are mine,” he said against Jim’s mouth. “You will always be mine.”

\---

_On the balcony of their apartment, looking out at the familiar waters of San Francisco Bay, Spock had allowed himself to fall into a shallow meditation. He was, with some difficulty, focusing on strengthening the bond in his husband’s absence. As active Starfleet officers (even in their so-called retirement), they had learned to bear separation without undue discomfort. But today the bond was throbbing almost painfully, and Spock ached for Jim to come home._

_It was illogical, as Jim would return tomorrow from what he had called his “appearance as a celebrity fossil” on the_ Enterprise NCC-1701-B, _and so Spock rationalized his unusual difficulty with the separation as a consequence of Jim’s foul mood upon his departure, and the rather grumpy kiss they had shared at their door. Soon his bondmate would walk back through that same door and gather Spock up in his arms, kissing him far too many times all over his face, and say, “Sorry I was such an ass when I left, love. Can I make it up to you?”_

_Spock breathed deeply and envisioned this hypothetical scene, attempting to soothe the twingeing bond with it. Combined with the quiet lapping of the bay, Spock was beginning to experience improvement when an unimaginable pain tore through his mind. With horror, he felt it splinter and rend the bond, until his head was filled with a scream so primal that it took a few moments for Spock to realize the voice was his own._

_By the time Spock regained some semblance of awareness, he found himself collapsed on the balcony floor, a few worried neighbors leaning out of windows and over the rails of their own balconies to check on him. An insistent chime was emanating from inside the apartment, but whoever was calling him to inform him of his husband’s death was too late. Spock already knew._

\---

The New Shi’Kahr outdoor market was busier than it had been three months ago, when Jim was last on the planet. Two years after the founding of the colony, the Vulcan race was on its way to being prosperous again, thanks in large part to the elder Spock.

At Jim's side, Spock stumbled slightly on a rock jutting out of the sand. Jim caught and steadied him before grabbing Spock’s hand and tucking it firmly into the crook of his own elbow.

“Will you stop being so fucking proud? Just hold my arm like a normal goddamn century-and-a-half-year-old Vulcan.” He put his hand over Spock’s and held it there. Spock sniffed petulantly.

“I am not the weak old man you think me to be, Jim. I am actually quite strong for my age. Which explains my ability to pin you so easily to the bed like the fragile young human you are.”

Jim smirked at him and shook his head. “You’re impossible. I like when you hold my arm, ok? I like helping you.”

Spock paused at a produce vendor’s stall to inspect a display of candy-colored fruit that was native to the planet. He did not remove his hand from Jim’s arm.

“I find it hard to believe that you enjoy caring for me like a doting nurse as well as copulating with me like an eager young buck.”

“Well, that’s the way it is. Suck it up.”

Spock turned to glare doubtfully at Jim, who waggled his eyebrows and flashed Spock his best _I’m a pain in your ass and you love it_ grin. Spock could not resist a small smile in return. This fond banter warmed a part of his brain that had been cold for lifetimes.

Jim glanced away and suddenly cleared his throat. Spock looked up to find the fruit vendor staring at them, broadcasting a non-expression of shock and disgust. “I will take seven of these,” Spock said serenely, indicating the neon fruit. The vendor deposited them in a bag and handed it wordlessly to Spock, who reached into his pocket for his credit chip. 

“I got this, old man,” said Jim, producing his own chip and handing it over before Spock could stop him.

“Jim, that is entirely unnecessary. I am more than capable—”

“Stop talking now,” Jim said cheerfully, taking his chip back from the not-glaring vendor. He patted Spock’s hand and dragged him deeper into the market. 

“I do not understand your desire to spoil me.”

“Was the other me not like that?”

“He was. I did not understand it then, either. But I did enjoy it. As I do now.”

Jim threw a sweet, easy smile at him and Spock felt the flip of joy in his chest that only this human could produce. He tightened his hold on Jim’s arm. 

\---

_After tireless years of negotiations and diplomacy with the Romulans, Spock had taken a brief respite at his residence on Vulcan. Spock did not enjoy leisure time. Leisure time allowed for unstructured thoughts, and unstructured thoughts inevitably became thoughts of Jim._

_It had been 78 years since Spock last saw his husband, and his pain was no less intense than on the day of Jim’s death. If Spock allowed himself to drift into that pain, those memories, he was quickly pulled under, as if the echo of his bond was a violent undertow in a black ocean._

_Decades ago, Dr. McCoy—already exceptionally old for a human but not yet close to death—had gently asked, “Spock, why don’t you pursue_ Kolinahr _again? It’s not keepin’ you from Jim this time, and maybe it could give you some peace.”_

_Spock had been silent for so long that Dr. McCoy had turned away, obviously not expecting an answer. But finally Spock had said, softly, “But it would keep me from Jim, Leonard. However rarely I allow myself to experience them, my feelings for Jim are all I have left of him.”_

_So he did not pursue_ Kolinahr _, but rather achieved a level of emotional repression he had desperately sought but failed to attain in his life before meeting Jim. He attacked his sadness and grief with a vicious commitment to logic, and he dismissed any emotion not related to his diplomatic efforts throughout the galaxy._

_But he was no longer young, and it had been so long since he allowed himself to rest that, in light of muscle weakness and psychic fatigue, a Romulan doctor sympathetic to his secret cause on the planet had all but ordered him to go home. He instructed Spock to spend a few weeks in meditation, focusing only on his health._

_Spock’s second day on Vulcan had been most unhelpful. His mind was restless and his usual control over memories of Jim inexplicably compromised. Nursing a rather severe headache, Spock was just entering the room he had rented at a seaside inn when his computer signaled an incoming call._

_The call designation of “Captain, USS_ Enterprise _” always surprised him, although he had communicated with Captain Picard several times and was perfectly aware that the chances of receiving a call from a captain past were virtually nonexistent. Additionally, today’s call was, curiously, not coming from the_ Enterprise _at all._

_Spock sat at his desk and answered the communication, watching Picard’s face swim into being on his screen._

_“Captain Picard,” he said neutrally, but was brought up short by Picard’s expression._

_“Hello, Ambassador. Something has happened that you need to know about.”_

_Spock did not answer, and waited for the captain to continue. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread, although he could not explain why._

_“You are aware that almost 80 years ago, at the time of Captain Kirk’s death, the_ Enterprise B _became trapped in a ribbon of energy, and that he was presumed to have died freeing the ship from its grasp.”_

_He paused, waiting for an answer. Although Spock found it somewhat insulting to be asked if he was aware of the circumstances of his own bondmate’s death, he tried to remember that to Picard, a human, 78 years was ample time for forgetfulness. Little did he know that every moment of that day was permanently imprinted on Spock’s memory, the physical pain of their broken bond like a scar on his brain. So Spock simply said, “Yes,” and Picard went on._

_“My ship encountered this same anomaly in the pursuit of a criminal, Dr. Tolian Soran, who was trying desperately to re-enter it. In order to alter the path of the Nexus ribbon, he had been destroying stars across the galaxy. His next target was the sun of the Veridian system, and the shockwave created by the imploding star would have killed the people of Veridian IV. I overtook him on Veridian III but was myself swept into the Nexus._

_“I was of course compelled to leave and continue trying to save Veridian IV, but this was difficult. As we discovered, the Nexus is an extradimensional realm that immerses those who enter it in their greatest desires. I was forced to tear myself away from my own paradise in order to escape, but I found myself in Captain Kirk’s version of the Nexus. He was also trapped there. He had been the whole time, Spock.”_

_Spock’s heart began to pound and a sick dizziness flooded his brain. Could this mean—?_

_“I knew of Captain Kirk’s heroic legacy, so I asked him to return to our dimension and help me save Veridian IV and stop the individual who was willing to sacrifice untold lives in order to re-enter the Nexus. It did take some convincing, but we left and we were able to accomplish our mission. My ship was destroyed, but the star and its people are all safe, mostly because of Kirk.”_

_He paused and took a deep breath, breaking eye contact with Spock._

_“In the fight with Soran, Kirk jumped onto a broken bridge, but it collapsed and Kirk was crushed by it. His last concern was whether we had saved the people of Veridian IV, and I assured him that we had. It seemed to console him that his death had allowed for the survival of millions. I am so sorry, Spock. I felt that you should hear it from a friend.”_

_As if from a great distance, Spock observed that sound seemed to have been sucked from the universe. He could perceive nothing but a subsonic hum in his ears—no, wait—there was one sound—water. Water lapping at the shore. Rocking water, similar to the sound of the bay on the day of Jim’s death. Or rather, the day Jim was lost to Spock but did not die._

_Jim had been alive. A mere day ago, Jim had been alive and present in the same quadrant as Spock. He had been alive for 78 years in the Nexus, but for only minutes once he returned to the galaxy._

_Spock became vaguely aware that Picard was saying his name. He turned his head and focused, with difficulty, on the face of the_ Enterprise _’s captain. The wrong captain. The wrong man. How dare this man restore Spock’s husband to life for any purpose other than to return him to Spock’s arms. How dare he._

_Picard was asking if Spock wanted further details. Without inflection, Spock replied, “Not at this time,” and terminated the call._

_Spock sat before the blank screen until darkness fell outside, listening to the water._

_After that, Spock almost never felt anything at all. He was as empty and black as dead space._

\---

“Ok, are you comfortable?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Are you sure?” 

Spock closed his eyes in fond exasperation. “Yes, Jim.”

“Good.” Jim came out onto Spock’s sun porch, a brick patio settled low in the sand, where two reclining wooden chaises were set up, Spock occupying one of them. Jim handed him the chocolate martini he had just made with a flourish. 

“Don’t worry,” Jim grinned, aware of Spock’s ageing tolerance for intoxicants, “There’s not too much chocolate in it.” 

Spock was fairly certain his head would be spinning before he could empty the small, conical glass. 

Earlier in the evening, Jim had insisted on cooking Spock a traditional Vulcan meal and had refused all offers of assistance. The smells of redspice and favinit butter were still drifting from the house into the hot desert evening as Jim settled on the other lounger with a large tumbler of scotch.

They drank in silence as purple darkness crept across the porch. The warm air, cold chocolate, and familiar food lulled Spock into a fuzzy contentment. Jim seemed to be in a similar state of mind, his eyes closed and face turned up against the sky. In the shadows he looked so much like Jim, the other Jim, _his_ Jim, that Spock found it necessary to look away. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Jim said softly.

“You certainly could not. You are a man who cannot tolerate stillness for very long, and you should not try to. You have much to experience, much to give this galaxy and its people.”

Jim turned and looked at Spock for 10.34 seconds. “You don’t think I’m going to fuck it up? You really think I can do it? ”

“I _know_ that you can do it.”

Jim drained the last of his scotch and stood, coming to hover above Spock in the low light. Although the air was still hot, Jim’s skin was hotter; Spock imagined through a haze of chocolate that he could see Jim’s heat as a tangible thing, a shimmer drifting up from his blazing skin. 

Wordlessly, Jim straddled Spock and ground slowly, agonizingly, against him. He stared hard into Spock’s eyes, refusing to look away, bold and wanton. Spock reached back and dug his hands into Jim’s ass, causing him to hiss as Spock nudged him to the knife edge between pleasure and pain. Jim kissed him, a fire in his mouth, and said, “Will you touch me?”

Spock reached into Jim’s light cotton pants, squeezing the warm column of his cock for a torturous moment before slowly beginning to stroke him up and down. Jim moaned and let his head fall back, the movement of his hips falling into time with the pace of Spock’s fist. 

Spock took Jim there on the porch, in view of the desert plants and the twinkling lights of far-off neighboring houses. He stripped Jim of all garments but left his own on, enjoying the sensation of wielding power over this juvenile version of Jim, exposed while Spock maintained his modesty. He merely adjusted his robe so that his own penis came free, lowering Jim onto it slowly enough for his body—already loose from earlier sexual activities—to slacken further and become wet with the slick drooling from Spock’s sheath. 

He gripped Jim’s hips and directed him in a hard, steady rhythm, watching transfixed as Jim’s cock bobbed up and down with the movement. Although they were both mildly intoxicated, their orgasms built quickly, and as Jim’s breathing became more ragged and desperate, Spock spared one hand to continue rubbing his rosy, leaking penis. Jim whined and pushed against him, as if trying to get Spock in deeper even though it was impossible. It was only moments before he came, arching his back and grabbing Spock’s arms. His needy gasps drove Spock over the edge of his own climax, and as aftershocks rocked Jim’s body, Spock pumped him full again and again. 

They caught their breath and Jim curled against him, still shuddering slightly with his face in the curve of Spock’s neck, with apparently no desire to remove Spock from his body. Spock put his arms around him and held him perhaps more tightly than was appropriate, but who could blame a lonely old Vulcan with a long-broken bond?

As the temperature dropped against their cooling skin, Spock noticed Jim beginning to drift off, and gently lifted Jim’s upper body away from his own. Jim gave a weak whine of protest, but Spock kissed him and murmured, “We should clean ourselves and sleep, Jim. I believe I would be most displeased with myself tomorrow were I to sleep in a chair.”

Jim grudgingly detached himself from Spock and all but sleepwalked into his pants, and Spock tucked himself back into his robes. It was as Jim was attempting to untangle the sleeves of his shirt that the porch door opened, a rectangle of light spilling out. Spock heard a sharp gasp of, “Captain?” and turned to find Jim frozen, halfway into his shirt, Spock’s own younger counterpart staring wide-eyed at Jim’s tousled hair and naked torso, the necklace of hickeys along his collarbone. A loaded, awkward silence descended.

Spock recovered first, rising gracefully to face the two young men, these unsettling ghosts of himself and his Jim. “Mr. Spock. _Na’shaya_. I was not expecting your visit.”

The younger Spock turned slowly to look at him. He was visibly disturbed, Spock noted, his emotional controls shaken. At this moment, he was hardly the “ice cube” Jim had described. 

“I traveled to New Vulcan to visit my father before our five-year mission commences.” He turned almost reluctantly back to Jim (who had still not finished putting on his shirt) as if he would rather not look at him at all. “I was unaware that you were also on the planet, Captain.”

That seemed to break Jim’s frozen embarrassment, and he hastily yanked his shirt over his head. “Uh, yeah. I come here a lot to visit the old man.” 

The young Vulcan looked slowly between them again. “For what purpose?”

“Like I said, to visit.”

Spock took a step toward Jim, and it was clear to his elder counterpart that the motion was possessive, the vague intention of a threat behind it. Jim must have noticed too, because he jumped slightly. 

“What exactly is the nature of your relationship with him?”

Jim swallowed. “That’s not really your business, is it, Spock?”

“As it is a version of myself with whom you are _obviously_ engaging in sexual activity, I find I must disagree.” 

Jim’s chin jutted out defiantly, although Spock could tell he was upset. “I can fuck who I want, Spock. And the other you is more than capable of deciding who he takes to bed.”

The younger Spock breathed roughly through his nose for a few moments, trying but utterly failing to control himself. “He may _not_ take what is not _his_ ,” he snarled, and Jim’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’m sorry? I’m not _his_ , Spock. I’m not anybody’s. I offered, he took. And it’s still none of your damn business!”

Spock dismissed him with a flick of his hand and turned to his older counterpart, eyes toxic and territorial. His emotions were so clear to the older Vulcan, but he wondered how much Jim was picking up, if he understood that Spock’s display was exactly what he had been hoping for—proof that his regard was not unrequited. 

Young Spock began speaking rapidly in Vulcan, obviously and callously excluding Jim from the conversation.

“ _You invade this universe and take that which belongs to another? Thruhk-neshuhk_ ,” he swore. “ _You stray into the garden of your kinsman and take fruit that is ripe for him, not for you. Are so greedy for Jim that you claim him across time, across realities? Is it the youth of his body, your inability to control yourself in the face of desire, that leads you to do this? You dangle him in front of me with the promise that he will define me, and then you take him for yourself?_ ” 

Spock simply raised his eyebrows at his other self, unbowed. This angry, self-righteous man could say nothing that Spock had not already considered, could conceive no insult Spock had not already directed at himself. 

Spock glanced at Jim and found him staring intensely at his first officer. Young Spock did not know it, but with all of Jim’s trips to the colony this past year, he had been picking up the Vulcan language with his typical adept brilliance. He was likely taking in much more of this conversation than the young Vulcan realized.

“ _Is-fam-rikanashik oluhk_ ,” Spock growled. “ _You challenge a rightful claim—_ ”

“What claim?” Spock interrupted, in Standard, and Jim’s eyes flickered between them. 

The younger Spock was practically gasping now, but the quite logical question seemed to have jarred him, made him suddenly aware of his behavior. He glanced at Jim, realizing what this outworlder had just seen and, shuddering, he closed his eyes. Spock could tell he was trying, desperately, to control himself before he said too much, if he had not already done so.

Through his teeth, he managed to grate out, “I am struggling not to succumb to disgust. I require meditation.” And with that he turned and left the porch, the sound of the front door following 2.3 seconds later. His purpose for coming to his counterpart’s residence was still undisclosed. 

Jim deflated, somewhat in shock based on the dilation of his pupils and the sweat beading on his forehead, and put his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Now there’s _no_ chance. No chance at all. I lost him. I fucking lost him.”

Spock stepped up to Jim and gently pried his hands away. “You have not lost him. Do you not see? He was jealous—aggressively jealous.”

Jim stared at him. “But… I mean, I got some of what he said—that you took something that didn’t belong to you, right?”

Spock nodded. 

“But he never said anything about you taking me _from him_. I feel like this… I mean, maybe this is about you coming here, creating a new universe that’s been… hard for him. Or is there some Vulcan taboo against old people sleeping with younger partners? Didn’t he say something about fruit and being ripe or something—maybe he’s just grossed out by the age difference.”

Spock briefly closed his eyes in exasperation. How Jim would tie himself in knots to deny his obvious worthiness to others.

“Jim, be sensible. There is no such taboo among my people. As we have longer life spans and periods of vitality than humans, age differences are common. My counterpart is angry because I took what he desires—a relationship with you that I have already had the privilege of experiencing.”

“But he didn’t _say_ that!” Jim fell forward and buried his face against Spock’s shoulder. Spock held him carefully, gently—unchecked, Spock would hold Jim too tight, so tight that he could not escape. He was about to correct Jim’s miscomprehension of Spock’s outburst, to confirm that he _had_ said almost exactly that, but then Jim went on. “And what right does he have to be mad at you anyway? It’s not like he did anything but push me away. I don’t care what he thinks about us being together or why it upsets him so much—I’m not going to fucking apologize for what I have with you. You’re not just a replacement for him.”

Spock ran a thoughtful hand up the back of Jim’s head. “I think in many ways we are each a replacement for something the other desires, but to my mind that does not invalidate what was between us.” 

Jim leaned back and scanned Spock’s face in the failing light. As Spock had suspected he would, he was obviously struggling with such a concept. Spock could see the moment when Jim registered the past tense in Spock’s reference to their relationship, and watched his eyes widen with painful understanding. Spock rubbed his thumbs against the handsome jut of Jim’s cheekbones.

“While I respect and enjoy you greatly as an individual, in all the ways you are both like and unlike my husband, I do not imagine I would have chosen to engage in a sexual relationship with you were you not his counterpart. And I doubt you would have found yourself in the bed of an elderly Vulcan from an alternate universe were I not the counterpart of the man you desire but do not have. 

“Our relationship has served as a balm to us both; that the nature of it is changing does not mean that what has been between us is in some way sullied, or of less importance. Or that we cannot still share a profound connection.”

Jim’s neon blue eyes lit into Spock’s, the color blurring a little as Jim tried not to cry. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

Spock chuckled and slid his hands away from Jim’s face, down his arms. “I do not think that term is accurate, Jim. I am merely releasing you to a version of myself who has a much stronger claim to you.”

Jim blinked, the tears escaping down his cheeks. “So you _are_ breaking up with me.”

Spock sighed. Stubborn, always stubborn. “I suppose, if you must regard this situation without nuance. Now that Spock has discovered our relationship, you must go to him and explain it—and inform him of your desire to be with him. Otherwise he may slip too far away. He is proud and vulnerable, and you must correct this misunderstanding swiftly. Thus, knowing my own propensity for jealousy and possessiveness, I am ending the sexual component of our friendship.”

Jim pulled away and turned toward the desert stretching out and away, glittering and shadowed under New Vulcan’s moon. 

“I just see it differently. You _are_ him. I... love you like I love him.”

They had never said those words. They were always hovering between them, present but unuttered. “You do not, Jim.”

“I _do_! Don’t tell me what I feel! This is like you telling me I can only have half a lover, and I have to choose which half. And I’ve gotta be the one to tear you apart.”

Spock stepped up behind him and allowed himself to wrap his arms one more time around this slightly wrong—but still precious—version of James Tiberius Kirk. “No, Jim. You do not have to choose. I am choosing for you. You will have a future, a career, a full life with Spock. I am a remnant of another time, and I am _not_ him. You belong to each other. He is right—I have no claim to you.”

Jim tipped his head back against Spock’s shoulder. A fine tremble was running through his muscles: oxytocin, adrenaline, and cortisol rendering him shivery and anxious. “And how is that fair to you? Then you’re just alone.”

It was _not_ fair. It had never been fair, but that was not Jim’s doing. Spock had allowed their relationship to escalate into a sexual one, and had repeatedly withheld from Jim the emotional toll it took on his old, heartbroken mind, despite Jim’s frequently expressed concern. He could no more have resisted Jim than he could have resisted gravity, and thus there was no logical reason for Jim to feel guilty.

“I will not repeat myself again in regards to this matter. I have always understood that this affair would end, and have expressed as much. I look forward to continuing a deep friendship with you. Even that is more than I could have hoped for.”

Jim sighed, eyes closed. “You really think I should go right now? Not even wait till morning?”

“It would be unwise to wait any longer, Jim.”

Jim hesitated, but finally broke away. 

“You’re kicking me out,” he said, not looking at Spock. When Spock said nothing to contradict him, Jim shook his head. “I know you think you’re doing it for my own good. But I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Spock could think of no suitable answer. After a handful of long, incalculable moments, he murmured, “Go, Jim.”

Jim heaved a shaking sigh and then stalked toward the house. He turned in the doorway and looked Spock over before he, too, was gone. 

\---

_Spock had fully intended to die on his mission to save Romulus. He was tired, so very tired, and the older he grew, the harder it was not to drown in his grief over twice losing Jim._

_Creating a black hole to swallow a dying sun seemed risky enough; his chance of survival was suitably low. Jim would never have let him attempt such a mission._

_It would do._

_Spock certainly did not intend to find himself in an alternate universe, watching the destruction of his planet. He did not intend to heap guilt and pain and the deaths of billions on his already disconsolate mind._

_By the time he heard the screaming of a humanoid life form and the metallic wails of a hengrauggi, Spock intervened on instinct alone. Save lives, prevent deaths, save others, save the many, the many, the many. Not him. Not the one._

_The beast retreated. Spock turned to regard its prey, a pair of ice-blue eyes glittering in the young face of—_

Jim. 

_The eyes were wrong, yes, but there was no doubt—this was Jim, impossibly young and beautiful, but Jim all the same._

_Everything Spock had felt about this man over the past 94 years came rushing in, as if that black undertow of emotion had been spending a century building a great wave. The wave crashed over Spock, spinning and tossing him._

_Jim had come back for him. Somehow, against all odds, Jim had found him._

_Spock said things to him—he wasn’t sure what. They could have been any of the important words, the ones Spock had said to Jim so many times over the years. So many times that they were no longer real words, just impressions down the bond. Captain, friend, t’hy’la, always shall be,_ Jim.

_Jim's humorless laugh in the darkness, his distrust, his alien eyes that did not hold one spark of recognition for Spock._

_Spock found himself making a fire robotically, acting again on instinct. This time the instincts were rusty, but so painfully familiar: care for Jim, nourish and protect and save him._

_When he found himself calculating the odds of Jim agreeing to stay in this ice cave until Spock’s death, hunting hengrauggi for food and making love by the firelight, Spock hastily attempted to find a measure of control. He managed to calm himself enough to have a coherent conversation, to untangle the data of this strange new reality._

_He did not need to touch Jim’s mind; he could have easily explained the circumstances that brought him to this universe through verbal communication. He did not need to tear into that sweet, dynamic consciousness, emptying his own emotions into a young human so utterly unprepared for an onslaught of unbridled Vulcan grief._

_Grief for his people, yes, there was plenty of that—and that alone was far too much for a human—but the grief and need for Jim was so much worse, the ecstasy and misery of seeing him again entirely overpowering. In every atom of Spock’s body there was a nucleus that pulsed for JIM, that screamed for his lost bondmate. Spock was unable to intervene as that black wave of his century-long separation broke over this powerless boy._

_When Jim tore away gasping, his awful blue eyes horrified and pleading for a comfort he did not yet fully understand, Spock realized he had gone too far. Jim stumbled away, trying not to break down, and had Spock truly failed his husband again so quickly?_

_But it was irresistible, Jim’s mind. Spock had needed to know. Was this really Jim?_

_The suffocating pain of discovering it_ was _Jim, but not_ his _Jim, was so intense that Spock wished he could be thrown out of a starship to die in the blackness of space. It would be better than this._

\---

By the time Jim made his way to Sarek’s house on foot, night had truly fallen in the desert and he was freezing, body shaking and teeth chattering. 

He stood at the door for a few minutes, trying to decide how to go about this. Ringing the chime and waking Sarek up seemed totally stupid—this drama was complicated enough without putting Spock’s dad in the mix. 

Jim tried to rub the goosebumps off his arms and slipped around to the back of the house, where he figured the bedrooms probably were. He found a sun porch like Old Spock’s extending from the back of the house, as well as the windows of one ground-floor room and one loft, tucked up near the roof in a small second story but still relatively close to the ground. The window of the ground-floor bedroom was dark, but the other was glowing slightly, flickering light and drifting smoke just visible. That was probably where Spock was—trying to meditate away the image of Jim and his older self having sex on Old Spock’s porch. 

If he was wrong, though, and it was Sarek in the dimly lit bedroom, he had some awkward explanations ahead of him. 

But Jim had gambled with way less than an educated guess before, so he barreled ahead with his half-formed plan and snuck onto the patio. He looked around for something to serve his purpose, and found that the patio was ringed with cacti and desert succulents in big, plain pots. He reached under the leaves of the least-spiky looking plant and grabbed a handful of gravel, then situated himself under the window he hoped was Spock’s, took a deep breath, and threw a pebble against the glass. 

No response.

Jim threw another pebble. 

The smoke shifted, as if someone was moving within and disturbing the candles and incense, but otherwise—nothing.

Jim threw another pebble, just a little bit harder. 

This time a figure appeared, rising up from what Jim guessed was a meditation mat on the floor. Jim breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Spock and not Sarek, but then he remembered why he was here in the first place and an entirely different anxiety curled up in his gut.

Spock unlatched the window. It opened outward into the night and Jim stepped a little closer, craning his neck so that they could talk quietly enough. 

“Captain,” Spock said. It sounded like he was going for neutrality, but there was a primal tremble in the word that Jim couldn’t ignore. “I assume you have a reason for throwing rocks against my window in the middle of the night.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Can I come in?”

“Why did you not utilize the chime?” 

“I didn’t want to wake your dad! Please, seriously, I’m freezing!”

Spock seemed to notice for the first time that Jim was shaking and gave a little start, like his worry for Jim had surprised him and he hadn’t been able to hide it in time. 

“One moment.”

Spock disappeared and a few seconds later a first-floor door opened below the windows. Jim rushed inside, heading blindly past Spock and up a short staircase for the only source of light he could see. 

He found himself in Spock’s bedroom, meditation mat on the floor as he had guessed, surrounded by candles and incense. A low bed covered in tapestries, a few statues, not much else.

Jim turned around and forced himself to make eye contact with Spock, who was watching him from the doorway, eyes predatory. 

“Listen, I just wanted to explain. About before.”

Spock looked away and crossed the room to sit on his bed, back straight, palms pressed together. He was shaking, which Jim had never seen him do unless they were dealing with a crisis. Jim hovered above him awkwardly, not a chair in sight.

“I do not believe I require additional information, unless you mean to tell me that you were not engaging in coitus with my counterpart, a fact I would find very difficult to believe.” 

“No, you were right—I’ve been sleeping with him for almost a year.”

Spock’s breathing picked up and his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, clenching his fists. Even though he had just sat down, Spock rose from the bed like he needed to move in order to contain his emotions. He crossed to the window and looked out, which was fine with Jim—it was easier to talk to his back anyway.

“Then I fail to understand what more we have to discuss.”

“You don’t even want to know why?”

“I find the thought of it so repulsive that I would prefer not to discuss it.”

Jim rubbed his arms. He was still freezing, the cold too deep in his bones for the warmth of the house to reach. “But– why? Why does this upset you so much?”

Spock threw his best _you are such a stupid human_ face over his shoulder.

“Ambassador Spock is _me_ , Captain. Can you not fathom how unsettling it is to discover that you wish to engage in intercourse with a man who is essentially me, but in a different, significantly older body?”

“It grosses you out because he’s old?”

Spock scoffed and turned back to the window. “No. I have no opinion on your desire to copulate with the elderly.”

Jim was pretty sure that was an insult, but he ignored it. He paused for a moment and thought about what he wanted to say next. He really should be smart, maintain his dignity and just _not_ say it, but hell—he was in this far. Might as well just forge ahead.

“So, it’s me, then? It doesn’t matter if it’s actually you doing the fucking, just the mental image of us together upsets you that much—the idea of having sex with me is just generally repulsive?”

For a long, long moment Spock didn’t move. Jim couldn’t tell now if he was shaking from cold, from nerves, or from the impending heartbreak he was now going to have to nurse through the entire five-year mission. 

Very slowly, Spock turned around, his eyes boring dark and hot into Jim’s. 

“I do not find the idea of sex with you repulsive. I am… disturbed and offended that I was passed over for a weaker, older, _different_ version of my own self.”

Jim stared. Spock didn’t look away. “Passed over?” Jim repeated faintly. “What do you mean, passed over? Like, you think I chose him instead of you? You weren’t on the table, Spock.”

“You know that I terminated my relationship with Nyota during your coma—”

“Not because of that, Spock!” Jim said sharply, not daring to yell and wake up Sarek. “Because you’re not into me! Because it’s been a year since we’ve had a real conversation! Because after I died I thought things were going to be different with us, and they were, but not how I wanted. It was like we’d never been close to begin with, like it was when we first met.

“I know when I’m not wanted, Spock, and if you figured out how I felt, it would ruin everything. We couldn’t work together, you wouldn’t go on the mission with me—and I didn’t want to lose you, ok? So yeah, I took up with the old man. I turned to him because I wanted you _that fucking bad_. He wasn’t quite you, but he was you enough, and he was sweet and loving and hot. He missed his Jim and I wanted my Spock and neither of us could have what we wanted, but we could have each other. It was _logical_.”

He spit the last word out like it burned his tongue. Spock’s eyes had gone slightly wide but he had not moved for the duration of Jim’s outburst. Jim wrapped his arms around himself and turned away. Not even his anger and embarrassment had driven out the chill. 

There was a long silence and then Jim heard Spock sigh, as if some of the fight had drained out of him. There was the sound of Spock moving around the room and then, to Jim’s surprise, a blanket was draped over him and Spock’s hands came to rest on his shoulders.

“Forgive me. I should have noticed earlier that you were still cold.” He gently turned Jim to face him before letting his hands slip away. 

“I was remiss in distancing myself from you in the manner you describe. I am not surprised that you interpreted my actions as you did. But I must confess that my motivations were not what you have surmised.”

Jim stared at him dumbly. Spock took a deep breath and went on.

“When you died, I was assaulted by emotions the strength of which I did not anticipate. I had sometimes observed that my... regard for you exceeded the normal bounds of human friendships. That it far exceeded my romantic regard for Nyota. 

“The idea that I had fallen in love with you, however, was one I had always vigorously dismissed. But I was forced to reevaluate when I experienced such suffocating grief at your loss, such undisciplined and... frankly, terrifying rage for Khan, the unequivocal desire to murder him.

“It became clear that not only was I in love with you, but also that what I felt for Nyota was not love at all. No matter how deeply I care for her—and I do—there is only one individual in the universe that can trigger such an extreme reaction in me, and that is you, Jim. 

“Upon this realization, it seemed to me that all of the effort I have put into controlling my emotions was in vain. So I…”

Spock trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to go on. 

“You ran from it?” Jim whispered, thinking about Old Spock’s explanation for Spock’s detachment. “You were so scared of how hard you’d fallen for me that you pushed me away?”

Spock looked up, ashamed but unwilling to lie. “Yes. I too feared our professional relationship, our… friendship would be lost. But most of all, I was afraid of admitting that I could feel so deeply.

“That is why I visited my elder counterpart tonight. I wished to inquire about the strength of his emotions for his bondmate, to discuss with him how he had maintained the Vulcan way while bonded to a human, to his captain.”

His eyes darkened again, some of his vulnerability eclipsed by the volatile fury he had been exhibiting for most of the night. 

“And when I found my counterpart engaging with you in such an _indecent_ manner, I—” he took another breath, steadying himself. “I realized that I have already come to think of you as... as mine. I concede that this is inaccurate, and yet I cannot deny the extreme possessiveness I feel toward you.” 

“But… but you _are_ in love with me?”

“Yes, Jim. Very much so.”

Jim felt heat behind his eyes and a stinging in his nose, but quickly got a hold of himself. Spock loved him, but he didn’t want him. It was worse than Spock not loving him at all.

“Ok,” he said without inflection. “So I’ll arrange for your transfer in the morning. I’m sorry you won’t get to go on the mission.”

Spock stared at him in genuine confusion. “I– I understood your confession to be one of mutual feeling... an admission that you... love me as well. Did I interpret your meaning incorrectly?”

Jim pulled his blanket more tightly around him and clenched his fists. “No, Spock, that’s the point. I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me but you’re trying not to be. I’m pretty sure that’s a recipe for the worst working relationship in history.”

Spock sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands. Jim instantly felt guilty—for what, he didn’t know, but he never wanted to be the one to hurt Spock—but he held himself back from going to comfort him.

“I am entirely unprepared for human interactions at this level of complication,” Spock said to the floor. He raised his head with effort, looking exhausted. 

“Perhaps I should have begun my explanation with this fact: I had come to discuss this situation with my elder counterpart because I am _tired_ of trying so hard not to love you. I wanted to offer myself to you as a romantic partner, but I first wanted to know if, in another universe, our relationship had been successful, had not cost me my logic, nor you your dynamic expression of emotion.”

Spock dropped his head again, and Jim had to lean forward to hear him. “And after I experienced such vehement jealousy when I found you with my older self, I realized this is truly a pointless battle to fight. I have no further desire to purge what I feel for you.” 

Jim opened his mouth. He closed it. Opened it again. Closed it. He’d been imagining this moment for so long, but now he had no idea what the hell to say. 

“Um, so I’m gonna kiss you now, ok?”

Spock looked up in surprise but dutifully got to his feet, watching as Jim closed the small space between them and pulled Spock’s body against his, slipped their mouths together. 

Spock went boneless in Jim’s arms, and a wave of relief that Jim realized was not his own washed over him. Spock’s warm mouth finally chased away the chill of the New Vulcan night, and Jim pulled Spock closer, closer. 

\---

Jim woke up with a yelp to the sting of teeth biting into him. He leapt out of bed, grasping for a phaser that wasn’t there, but finally his sleepy eyes cleared on Spock—Young Spock, _his_ Spock—sprawled on his stomach and glaring at him.

Jim deflated. “What the hell, Spock?” 

“I do not like seeing his marks on you,” Spock said, a dangerous edge to his voice that Jim had to admit sent a rush of blood to his cock. “Come back to bed.”

Jim’s memory of last night started rushing in—the fight, the kissing, the hasty, whispery, _transcendent_ hand jobs. With a grin, he put his hands on his hips and didn’t budge.

“Pretty sure I give the orders, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s pupils dilated and his face turned feral. “In my bed, you do not,” he growled, and lunged at Jim, grabbing him by the waist and throwing him onto his back on the low mattress. Before Jim could even gasp in surprise, Spock’s teeth were on his collarbone again, sucking his own bruise over one of Old Spock’s. 

This was going to be a great day.

\---

Sarek was having breakfast in his small kitchen when Jim and Spock slunk guiltily down the stairs. They had been relatively quiet, and the walls were thick, but both men knew there was no real explanation other than the truth for why Jim had appeared in the middle of the night after Sarek was asleep and was now standing in Sarek’s kitchen in the bright desert morning. 

Sarek raised his eyebrows, but it was clearly not in surprise. 

“Captain Kirk. How unexpected,” he said drily. 

Jim tried for a smile that didn’t look pained. “It’s nice to see you, Ambassador.” 

“Captain Kirk arrived on New Vulcan three days ago to visit my elder counterpart, Father,” said Spock, gracefully sitting down at the little table. “He came late last night to discuss ship’s business.” 

It was not technically a lie, of course. They had indeed briefly discussed which parts of the ship were most well-suited for private sexual activity. 

Sarek nodded, and Jim swore he could see a twinkle of amusement in the old Vulcan’s eyes. He gestured to the table. “Please, Captain—join us for breakfast.” 

Jim thought about making some excuse and fleeing the awkwardness as soon as possible, but it just seemed too rude, so he sat down next to Spock. Silence descended, unbearably awkward for Jim and Spock, but apparently quite pleasant for Sarek. 

\---

_Jim began visiting Spock regularly in the months following his death. He was anxious and skittish, frustrated with his weakness in recovery. At Spock’s home on New Vulcan he seemed to find a small measure of comfort, and Spock could not help but drink in each moment with Jim as a man dying of thirst drinks water._

_As was his nature, Jim was affectionate and tactile, and although perhaps Spock should have discouraged this behavior, he did not. He was not certain that Jim understood how significant it was to Spock when Jim laid a warm hand on his shoulder, enfolded him in a hug, or leaned into him when they were sitting together looking at something on Spock’s PADD. Yet still he did nothing to stop it._

_But of course, he was not giving Jim enough credit—Spock should have realized that this Jim would share his bondmate’s sharp, perceptive intuition. By Jim’s third visit, it was becoming clear that the young man knew perfectly well the effect he had on Spock, and was only becoming more flirtatious. Spock was aware that he should resist, that this Jim belonged to another Spock, another destiny, but Spock had been so empty for so long._

_One evening Spock stood alone on his sun porch, looking out across the desert but not seeing it. Truthfully he was avoiding Jim, who was inside reading, lounging on Spock’s couch in a seductive manner that left Spock agitated and almost sick with longing._

_Spock became aware of Jim’s presence behind him before he heard the shuffling of his feet and the rustling of his clothes as he leaned on the doorframe._

_“There you are, old man. You disappeared. I was worried.”_

_Spock turned back toward the house and offered a small smile. “It is illogical for you to worry about me, Jim.”_

_The young man—he really was so very young—grinned back. He was in civilian clothes: a tight t-shirt and light pants, his hands shoved in his pockets, pulling his waistline down so that a slice of skin showed. “Is not. You’re my first officer.”_

_“Regrettably, that is not a true statement of fact.”_

_Jim stepped close to him. Spock could smell the sweet, overheated smell of him; so familiar and yet just slightly, disturbingly different._

_“Well, close enough,” said Jim. “Why’d you come out here? I want to spend as much time with you as I can. You sick of me already?”_

_Spock knew he was joking, but he was so decidedly not sick of Jim, so desperate for every second spent just looking at Jim’s face, that the question almost knocked the breath from his lungs. He reached out and grabbed Jim’s hand, not meaning to, but he could not help it._

_Jim looked down, surprised, but he didn’t pull away._

_“Of course not, Jim. The answer is precisely the opposite. It is so… overwhelming to be in your presence that I was concerned about making you uncomfortable. I find myself very emotional in your company. I did not wish to disturb you.”_

_Jim placed his other hand over Spock’s and rubbed his thumb along the wrinkled skin there. Spock felt lightheaded at just that simple touch._

_“Your emotions don’t disturb me, Spock. And you’re not as good at hiding them as you think." After a few moments of silence, Jim quietly asked, "If I kissed you, would that make it better or worse?”_

_Spock turned a pleading look in Jim’s direction, silently begging him not to offer this, but Jim just smiled that smoldering little half-smile that haunted Spock’s memory and started tracing his fingertips in circles on the back of Spock’s hand._

_“The last thing I want to do is torture you, Spock. But I’m here, you know. You don’t have to pretend that I’m not. I can be him sometimes, if you want. But I understand if it’s too much, if it would just make it harder.”_

_His face was now mere inches from Spock’s. Even had he wanted to, Spock calculated a mere .0000073% chance that he would have been able to resist dipping his head to close the short space between their mouths._

_Jim slung his arms around Spock’s neck, standing on the tips of his toes as he was bent backward by the force of Spock’s kiss. Spock, for once, could not form even one coherent thought; his body took over and he grabbed Jim around the waist, clinging to him, subconsciously aware that this could be the last time he ever held his bondmate like this again._

_Jim broke away and put his soft hand on Spock’s cheek, laughing. “Slow down, old man. We have all night.”_

_Spock slipped his hands under Jim’s shirt, needing to feel the overheated skin there. But some of his reason started to return, and he said, “Jim, I am very much your senior, as you are fond of pointing out. I hold no illusions about my attractiveness to you. I do not require you to engage in intercourse with me out of pity.”_

_Jim smiled—the sweet, slow smile this time—and ran his fingers over Spock’s mouth. “Who said anything about pity? Spock, you must be well aware that there’s a pretty broad spectrum of what I’m attracted to. And besides, this is you. Guess what? You’re not the only one who wants what he can’t have.”_

_Then Jim was already in love with Spock’s young counterpart. So much earlier than in Spock’s own life. How different this reality was, and yet how similar—Spock and his captain being drawn together as two rivers to the sea._

_Spock rested his head against Jim’s, trying to focus amid the flood of sensations he was experiencing, emotions and physical reactions he had not faced in over a century._

_“Oh, my Jim,_ ashal-veh _, if you desire my counterpart, it is him you should approach, not me.”_

_Jim shook his head and Spock felt a rush of Jim’s agitation and heartbreak. “It’s not like that with us, not like it was with you and your Jim. I thought maybe things were going to be different after I died and he… freaked out, but they’re not. Or, they are, but it’s worse. He’s barely speaking to me. I think he really just doesn’t want me, Spock.”_

_Spock tried to tell Jim how wrong he almost certainly was, but Jim interrupted him, changing the subject and deflecting attention from his own unmet needs. How familiar._

_“Anyway, I promise this isn’t a pity fuck. It breaks my heart to think of you here without him, and me taunting you all the while just by existing. I’m in love with young you and you’re in love with old me. It’s ok if you take advantage of that.”_

_He pushed his hips up against Spock’s, rubbing his obvious erection against Spock’s leg. “And, come on. I’ve got your husband’s super hot young body. You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”_

_Spock slid his hands to Jim’s buttocks and squeezed the tight muscles there. “No, Jim. I cannot tell you that.” He reached up to grab Jim’s face and kiss him again, drowning in his smell, his taste, the brush of his mind against Spock’s own. Jim wrapped his arms around him again and held on tight, and Spock could feel in Jim’s desperate grip that he intended to hold on for as long as he could._

\---

Spock was beginning to realize how wrong he had been in assuming that making love to Jim’s counterpart would be worth losing him again.

Jim was in Spock's hallway, sitting on his suitcase. He had come to say goodbye. 

Spock’s younger self was hovering possessively around him, and Jim was lighter and happier than Spock had seen him in possibly their entire acquaintance. He was trying to hide it, almost certainly for Spock’s benefit, but was failing spectacularly.

It was a painful reminder of how compatible they were, how they were each only able to thrive fully in the context of a relationship with the other. How cruel it was that he had had his Jim for so short a time. 

“So we’re heading back to Earth tonight,” Jim was saying. “The meetings and prep for the mission are starting, and we need time for a sex marathon before we get down to business.”

Young Spock raised an eyebrow. “Jim, that was not what I meant when I said I needed to prepare for the meetings.”

“I know,” said Jim cheerfully. “I changed your plans for you. Captain’s orders.” 

Spock performed a convincing impression of exasperation, but the elder Vulcan could so easily read the pleasure and relief in his own young, love-struck face. Little did Spock know that the peace he felt with Jim would multiply exponentially after they bonded. They had so much to look forward to. 

Lost in thought, Spock did not notice that Jim had stood up until his arms were around Spock’s neck, holding him close. Spock glanced at his alternate self, but the young Vulcan reluctantly looked away, a tacit expression of permission. Spock pulled Jim closer to him and breathed him in.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Jim whispered against his ear.

“Of course, Jim. Do not worry about me.” 

Jim pulled back enough to search his face. “You’re not as good a liar as you think you are.”

Spock offered him a sad smile but did not respond to the accusation. “I would like to hear the details of your departure on the mission, if you are able to spare time for a comm.”

“Of course, old man. I’ll keep in touch, ok? I promise.”

He leaned back in and kissed Spock’s cheek. “Thanks for being there for me.” 

“Thank _you_ , Jim,” Spock said, and meant it. He was grateful for Jim’s open affection and his graciously offered care—whether it had helped Spock or hurt him in the end. 

Jim gave him one last sad grin and squeezed his arms.

Then the two young men stepped out into the desert, smiling at each other, and Spock closed the door behind them.

“Goodbye, Jim,” he said to no one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Spock are happily dating, but Jim can't stop worrying about the Old Man he left behind. He convinces Spock to go into the Nexus with him and retrieve the other Kirk, but the Nexus has unexpected effects on the young couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is—my Christmasy take on fixing _Generations_. Two notes: In the movie, Kirk's Nexus vision takes place at his uncle's barn in Idaho, but for simplicity I changed it to the barn of the Iowa farmhouse. 
> 
> Secondly, in scenes where the two Kirks are together, I've called the younger "Jim," and the older "Kirk." But from Old Spock's perspective, they're both always "Jim."
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone!
> 
> **Vulcan Glossary for Part Two**  
>  nashaut: hello (between bondmates or very close friends)  
> pi'khart-lan: little captain  
> rom-halan: farewell  
> Va’Pak: The Immeasurable Loss (Vulcan’s destruction by Nero)  
> ashal-veh: darling person  
> ashaya: love  
> telsu: bonded  
> hayal: calm  
> nam’uh hayal: calm down  
> ka’i: I’m right here (literally here now)  
> dahshal s'nash-veh heh worla dahshal: parted from me and never parted  
> koon-ut-kalifee: place of marriage or challenge  
> koon-ut: place of marriage; physical location  
> ashal-sa-telsu: darling husband  
>  _Source:[Vulcan Language Dictionary](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/)_

_One Year Later_ , _USS Enterprise_

Spock was deeply relaxed. After a challenging series of missions, many of the command officers, including himself, finally had two full days off duty, the crew engaged in basic star-mapping.

Spock was sprawled out in bed, muscles well-used and slightly sore, a faint echo of earlier activities still buzzing in his skin. Someone had paged Captain Kirk (even though he was off-duty) and Spock could overhear the conversation but for once allowed himself to ignore it.

He focused instead on his very enjoyable view of the captain, naked at his desk, taking notes on his PADD while he listened to the ensign on the intercom. The captain’s face was still slightly flushed, hair askew, the tip of Spock’s red handprint just visible where his posterior touched the chair.

Feeling Spock’s eyes on him, Jim glanced up and grinned, holding up one finger in promise that he would return to bed as soon as possible. Spock raised a dangerous eyebrow to indicate his displeasure with Jim’s absence, and watched him shiver with arousal.

“Ok, sounds good,” Jim interrupted the ensign chattering away over the comm, “I need to go now, but you can send me a report this evening, alright?”

“Oh, uh– ok. Sure thing, Captain.”

Jim shut off his comm and drawled back over to Spock, infuriatingly slow. As he slipped back into bed, languidly hovering on his hands and knees above Spock’s body, he said, “Mr. Spock, you’re not allowed to be frustrated with me for doing my job. Don’t forget that when duty calls, you’re my subordinate.”

Spock grabbed Jim’s hips and flipped him easily onto his back, immediately covering Jim’s weak human body with his own. “Then I am pleased, Captain, that you chose to end your professional conversation and are once again off duty. I find I am in no mood for you to be in control of anything. Do you understand?”

Jim trembled and gasped into Spock’s mouth. “Yes, Mr. Spock,” he choked out.

Spock trailed his hand down Jim’s leg, just grazing his cock with the side of his thumb. Jim bucked his hips and whined, but Spock stilled him with a firm hand on his upper thigh.

“Will you behave for me, Captain?"

Jim licked his lips and nodded frantically. “Yes, yes I promise.”

“If another officer attempts to contact you during your leave time, will you answer them?”

Jim hesitated. Even in the midst of their sexual play, Jim struggled to let Spock push him far enough to truly let go of the burden of command.

“Captain,” Spock warned, digging his fingers into the meat of Jim’s thigh, firmly enough to bruise.

“No, Mr. Spock. I won’t answer them.” He paused and Spock was about to take pity on him and touch his straining cock when Jim said in a rush, “Unless it’s an emergency.”

As punishment for the unnecessary caveat—both officers obviously knew that if they were _actually_ needed for ship’s business the roleplay would stop—Spock flipped him on his stomach and slapped the already cherry-red skin of Jim’s buttocks. Jim gasped and then moaned, trying to kneel up and present himself for more smacks, which Spock denied, returning him roughly to his back.

For a man who often took on the role of, in his own words, “the subbiest little bottom in the galaxy,” Captain Kirk was not especially obedient.

\---

But he was true to his word and did not answer his comm for the rest of the day, although Spock did catch him texting Uhura, asking her to check in on the bridge and give him a status report.

Spock texted her from his PADD telling her to ignore Jim’s request, and Uhura texted them both that she had better things to do on her day off than get in the middle of their stupid fight and to leave her alone. Unless they wanted to have a drink later. Scotty and Bones were coming to her quarters at 1900 and they were welcome to join.

As punishment for the text, Spock put Jim over his knee and spanked him again. Jim forgot about the status report.

When 1900 came, Spock finally got dressed and waited for Jim at the door, but Jim sat down at his computer instead.

“You go ahead. I made a phone date with the old man yesterday and I don’t want to cancel. I’ll meet you in a little bit—tell Uhura I’ll be there soon.”

Spock stiffened at the mention of his counterpart. After a moment’s hesitation he took a seat on Jim’s couch. “I will send Nyota a message indicating that we will both arrive shortly.”

Jim looked at him for a long moment, annoyed by his jealousy. Finally he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

He entered Spock’s call designation and waited for the connection with New Vulcan.

As the screen resolved into the old Vulcan’s face, Spock’s warm, deep voice greeted him, “Jim. _Nashaut_.”

Jim smiled, resolutely ignoring the younger Spock pouting on his couch, who huffed slightly at the intimate greeting.

“Hey, old man! How are you?”

“I am well, Jim,” Spock said, but Jim was pretty sure it was a lie. Spock looked ashen and tired, more so than the last time they’d commed. Every time they talked over the lightyears, Spock seemed a little older, a little sadder. Jim didn’t want to think too much about what it meant. So he let him lie and Spock went on, “How are you, _pi'khart-lan_?”

Jim was pretty sure he heard his Spock scoff and mutter, “Unnecessary.”

“I’m good,” Jim said. “Spock’s here with me. Being grumpy.”

Old Spock smiled slightly. “He is possessive. I was the same. You may again reassure him that I treasured my Jim too dearly to deprive him of his own.” He said the last part a little loudly, so Spock would hear it. Spock rolled his eyes and Jim stifled a laugh. Spock’s jealousy was irritating as hell, but also just a little bit cute. Jim glanced back to the older Vulcan, and found his eyes hot and flirtatious. Jim grinned and gave him a quick wink.

“Well, anyway,” he said, “We actually had a day off today.”

“Indeed?"

The conversation turned to less controversial matters and Spock did not interrupt for 23.67 minutes. His control waned after that and he rose from the couch, coming to stand behind Jim, one proprietary hand falling onto his shoulder.

“I apologize for rushing you, Jim. But we should proceed to Nyota’s quarters.”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, alright. We’re heading over to Uhura’s for drinks and also Young You is about to jump out of his skin, so I guess I should go.”

Spock smiled fondly but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very well, Jim. May we speak again soon?”

“Yeah, of course. Message me when you have time.”

“I will, Jim. _Rom-halan_ , Spock.”

He raised the _ta’al_ to both of them and they returned it. “Talk soon, old man,” Jim said, and cut the comm. As he stood, Jim shrugged Spock’s hand off his shoulder.

“Do you have to do that?"

“I am uncertain what 'that' refers to.”

Jim leaned on his desk and crossed his arms. “The jealous thing. Getting all possessive whenever I talk to Old You.”

Spock tucked his hands behind his back. It was supposed to look confident but Jim noticed how Spock’s eyes didn’t quite meet his.

“As I have explained, I do not trust him. I do not know his mind, or how losing his bondmate has affected him. He is in love with you, and you care for him deeply. It is logical to be suspicious of his intentions.” At Jim’s answering silence, Spock peeked at him and found him staring Spock down, unimpressed.

“Ok, but what does any of that matter? I’m not with _him_ , I’m with _you_ , stupid. I mean, of course I care for him. Mainly because _he’s you_. But I’m not going to leave you for him or whatever it is you worry about.”

“But he does not have his Jim. You are all he has.” Spock’s eyes darkened. “He treats you like a bondmate. It is clearly impossible for him to be anything but intimate with you.”

Disgust, poorly concealed, crossed Spock’s face and he spat, “' _Little Captain_.' It is foul.”

“It’s _sweet_. He’s sweet. He was good to me, Spock. I know you needed that year to get your thoughts in order, to accept that you’d fallen in love with an illogical, undesirable human—”

“Jim, you know that is not—”

“But that year was awful, ok? I’m not blaming you, but I was so lonely and the physical recovery was hard and you were just _gone_. He was there. You need to just accept that he meant something to me, and that he still does. You need to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Spock’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “And you are not undesirable; on the contrary. You are precious to me.”

“So then give me a little credit. Don’t worry about the old man. You’re right—I’m kind of all he has, and I want to look after him. But I’m perfectly capable of caring about him without fucking him.”

They locked eyes, the air thick with the same challenging tension that often flared between them on the bridge. But finally Spock ducked his head. “I am sorry, Jim. As you obviously know, Vulcan males tend toward possessiveness, an instinctual desire to protect one’s mate from others. But I see that it is unnecessary. You are right.”

Jim chuckled and put his hands on Spock’s shoulders. “Can you say that again so I can get it on vid? And maybe play it for you sometimes when we’re on duty?”

Spock glared weakly at him through his eyelashes. “That would not be useful, Captain, as I am nearly always right as it pertains to our working relationship.”

Jim rolled his eyes but slid his arms around Spock anyway. “You’re irritating.”

“As are you, Captain.”

Jim snorted and kissed him. After a moment, he said quietly, “I’m in this, ok? With you? I don’t take it lightly.”

Spock closed his eyes and leaned his head against Jim’s, wishing not for the first time that they were bonded.

“I know, Jim.”

Jim’s hands drifted up and down Spock’s back. “I’m totally into you for realsies.”

Spock sighed, perhaps more dramatically than was logical. “How reassuring.”

Jim giggled and broke away, grabbing Spock’s hand. “Come on, I want to get drunk.”

As always, Spock followed him.

\---

Jim talked to Old Spock again three days later, this time on ship’s business—they were discussing the timing of a supply run for one of Spock’s agricultural projects. The _Enterprise_ had become the unofficial envoy to New Vulcan, not only because of its Vulcan first officer, but also because Vulcans tolerated Captain Kirk better than they did most other humans.

His assistance during the _Va’Pak_ had made him a respected figure on the colony, as had his continued interest in the rebuilding effort. And after so many visits to the planet before the five-year mission, Jim was on relatively familiar terms with a few prominent Vulcans.

Spock didn’t need the supplies imminently, so they planned for a delivery in six months. Jim updated his calendar and then let his PADD fall on the desk, stretching back in his chair and yawning.

“You are fatigued, _pi'khart-lan_.”

“Well, duh. This job isn’t exactly conducive to getting enough sleep.”

Spock’s eyes twinkled. “Especially when you are devoting so much of your off-duty time to coitus with your first officer.”

Jim laughed. “Fair point.”

But worry chased away his amusement almost immediately, and he said, “Speaking of fatigue, old man, you’re not looking so good lately.”

Spock put his hand to his chest in mock offense. “Please, Jim, you wound my vanity. Is that any way to speak to a former lover?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’m serious. You know what I mean. Are you doing ok?”

Spock regarded him for a few long moments, his face unreadable even to Jim. Finally he sighed and looked down.

“I would not say that I am ‘doing ok,’ Jim, no. But I am not dying, if that is your concern.”

“Well I obviously don’t want you to die, but that’s not all I’m worried about. I want you to be happy, too.”

Spock still didn’t look up. “I believe that true, lasting happiness is not something I am able to achieve without my bondmate. His loss has weighed more heavily on me over the years than I care to admit. But I _am_ happy that I am able to see and talk to you, Jim. I am grateful for that.”

Jim stared at him. Spock still didn’t meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have started stuff between us,” Jim said quietly, “It just made things worse for you.”

Spock finally looked up, his face so helpless it nearly broke Jim’s heart. “Oh _, ashal-veh_. Perhaps it did, but I cannot find it within myself to regret it. In those moments with you, I was more at peace than I have been in decades. I did not expect to experience that peace again in my lifetime, and it was an unforeseen gift.”

Jim’s eyes started burning and he had to look away—this Spock just did something to him. He was so sad, so alone; a vision of a future Jim wanted to protect his own Spock from at any cost. Both Spocks were always talking about how great Jim was, but as far as he could tell, the other Jim had ruined Old Spock’s life. He would have been better off without him. And that meant that maybe Jim’s Spock was better off without him, too.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” Jim whispered. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”

“Do not _ever_ be sorry for that,” Spock said sharply. “You are fulfilling your own destiny, and you have done nothing wrong. Please do not be hard on yourself on my account. You already take responsibility for far too many things that are out of your control.”

Jim scrubbed at his face and looked at Spock with his watery, ice-colored eyes. “Please let me help you, if I can. If there’s anything I can do. I mean, not sex, I guess. I think Young You would probably kill you, but anything else.” 

Spock smiled softly. “When you bring my supplies in six months, I ask that you and Spock beam down for dinner. Then we will sit on my porch, and I will watch you drink scotch, and that will be enough.”

They both knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.

\---

Jim couldn’t fall asleep after his conversation with Old Spock, even though he was weary in his very bones. At some point in the deep of ship’s night, he whispered, “Spock? Are you awake?”

The sheets rustled and Spock propped himself up on his elbow. “Yes, Jim. I apologize that I did not realize you were—I was mentally reviewing tomorrow’s duty roster for my staff.”

Jim snorted. “That’s what Vulcans do when they can’t sleep?” he joked.

Spock, missing his sarcasm, repeated an answer he had given many times, but probably assumed Jim’s tiny human brain had forgotten. “I could sleep if I wished to, but my body does not require it at this time. Is something troubling you?” Spock reached out a hand to tuck a stray lock of Jim’s hair into place.

“It’s Old You. And please don’t get weird, ok?”

Spock tilted his head, looking down at Jim in the darkness. “I will try not to. Did something happen when you spoke to him tonight?”

“Yeah. He just looked so… worn down. I asked if he was ok, and he basically said no, he isn’t. He said he couldn’t ever really be happy without his Jim.”

“Was that new information for you?” Spock’s fingers drew soft, slow lines against Jim’s head, and if his mind wasn’t spinning in circles, it might have put him to sleep.

“No. I guess not. I guess I’ve just never heard him say it. It’s so… it’s just so fucking sad, Spock.”

“It is,” Spock said, adding a gentle drag of his nails against Jim’s skin. “It is an especially tragic series of events.”

“What if that happens to us? To you?”

Spock didn’t answer for a long time. Finally he said, carefully, “I would postulate that if my counterpart was given the choice to live his life over, to experience the joy of his bondmate with full knowledge of the pain that was before him, he would still choose to be with his Jim. I believe I would always choose you, in any circumstance.”

“Is that your way of saying you want this even if it hurts you?”

Spock slipped his hand down to rest against Jim’s cheek. After a moment he said softly, “Yes.”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and for a while they didn’t speak. Eventually Spock laid back down and Jim felt himself being pulled against his chest. He burrowed his face into the shelter of Spock’s neck and tried to think about his own duty rosters, but it didn’t work, not even a little bit.

“Are you still awake?”

“Yes, _ashaya_.”

“Could we get him back?”

“To whom do you refer?”

“The other me. I mean, could we get him to this universe somehow?”

Spock paused before answering, obviously a little taken aback. “It is unlikely. If you attempted it, you would be at far too high a risk of injury or death. The likelihood of succeeding without dire consequences is unacceptably low.”

“‘Unacceptably low’ isn’t nothing.”

“Jim, what you are suggesting is unreasonable. I understand why you want to help my counterpart, and that desire is honorable. But this should absolutely not be attempted. You must come to terms with the sad reality of my counterpart’s existence. As you well know, sometimes darkness and sorrow simply cannot be kept out of life.”

Jim adjusted his head a little so he could look out at the dim cabin. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Spock kissed his forehead. “Perhaps I could help you achieve the rest you need?” He lifted his hand, ready to place his fingers on Jim’s meld points, but Jim threaded his fingers in Spock’s and gently laid their hands on Spock’s chest.

“No, that’s ok. I’m feeling sleepy now.”

Spock hummed somewhat doubtfully but didn’t push it. Jim stared into the corner of his cabin. He wasn’t sleepy at all, of course. He needed to think.

\---

Once Jim started thinking, he couldn’t stop.

He pieced together all the details Old Spock had let slip about the circumstances of his bondmate’s death, and then he sent him a box of chocolates and waited for the drunk dial.

Spock commed him two days later, tipsy and melancholy and more than willing to talk about Jim’s counterpart, and Jim got the rest of the information he needed.

And then he worked.

He worked during downtime on the bridge. He worked when Spock was in the labs, or totally engrossed in whatever scientific paper he was reading or writing. He worked while Spock was meditating. He worked whenever Spock was either gone or too distracted to notice what Jim was doing.

It took two months, but at the end of it, Jim was pretty sure he had a rough plan good enough to get Spock on board.

The night Jim was planning to present Spock with his findings, the temperature control systems went down and the ship got nippy like a crisp fall day. Jim and Spock spent the evening with Scotty trying to fix the problem, and Spock’s mood deteriorated in direct correlation with the rate at which the temperature was falling.

The rest of the ship was thrilled—it was late November and the crew, with their typical frantic zeal, was already getting excited for the holidays. Cabin fever was a real threat on a deep-space missions, and holidays tended to get pretty out of control, celebration a safety valve to release pent-up energy and tension.

So everyone broke out sweaters and replicated hot chocolate, and even from where they were bickering in the bowels of Engineering, Jim and Spock could hear raucous shouting and even Christmas carols drifting down from the upper decks. Every time there was a particularly loud laugh or blast of trumpets, Spock’s lips went so tight they drained of all color.

By the time they got back to their quarters, the air only just starting to warm up, Spock was shivering and in prime bitch mode. He had all but yelled at Jim—in front of Scotty no less—when Jim made an especially illogical suggestion about completely rebooting the environmental systems.

It had only gotten worse when Jim’s idea had worked.

“I require meditation,” Spock snapped as soon as the doors closed behind them, and he swept through the bathroom into his own quarters. No one had slept in Spock’s quarters for nearly a year, but he kept his meditation supplies and all his other Vulcany stuff in there, as well as a desk where he could go to work when he was mad at his dumb human boyfriend who dared to captain the ship.

Jim’s palms were sweating and he was trembling a little, but not from the cold. He didn’t think he could make it through another day without telling Spock about his plan, and so he was pretty sure he needed to forge ahead despite Spock’s mood.

He puttered around for an hour to give Spock time to meditate, and then he slipped into his first officer’s quarters, finally slightly hot as the temperature controls kicked back in. The heavy sweet smell of incense made his nose itch, but he walked through the drifting smoke to where Spock was sitting ramrod straight on his mat, surrounded by several bowls of the offending incense bricks, crumbling as they burned down.

Jim laid a hand on the back of Spock’s neck and found it still cold, and so he began to methodically rub heat back into every chilled place he could find. He could feel Spock slowly drifting back to awareness, and as he was massaging the points of Spock’s ears between his fingers, Jim heard him take the deep breath that usually signaled his return from the trance.

“Back on planet Earth, honey?”

“No, Jim. We are currently 12.756 lightyears from Earth. I am, however, finished meditating.”

Jim dropped his head against Spock and smiled into his bony shoulder.

“Are you a little warmer?”

“Yes. And in better control of my emotions. I am sorry I was quarrelsome.”

“It’s ok. I’d be pissed too if I was that cold. Hey, um, can I talk to you?”

Spock looked at him over his shoulder. “Of course, Jim. Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Come to bed and we can talk there, ok? I turned the heat up.”   

And Jim fled back to his own quarters.

When Spock followed him into their bedroom, Jim was already sitting cross-legged on top of their coverlet, silently holding out his PADD. Spock took it and crawled in next to him.

“So, um,” said Jim eloquently, “I’ve been researching some stuff, and you’re not gonna like it, but I think I’m onto something.”

Spock scanned the PADD for a few moments before his eyebrow predictably flared into his bangs. He looked up at Jim, a hint of censure in his eyes.

“You plan to attempt to retrieve your counterpart.”

Jim held up his hands. “I know, I know. You said the risks were too great. But I did some calculations, and I think I might be able to do it with better odds. Would you just look at it for me? See if you agree? If not, I’ll drop it.”

They both knew he wasn’t going to drop it.

Spock sighed. “Jim, from what I understand, your counterpart became trapped in an interdimensional energy ribbon that exists outside of time and space, which encloses those who enter it in ultimate bliss. It is an entity others have tried and failed to enter safely.”

“Yeah, but nobody else had as much data as I do. After the other me left the Nexus—”

“That is the name given to the energy ribbon?”

“Yeah. After he left it and proceeded to immediately get crushed by a bridge like an idiot, Old You went to get his body back. And while he was there, he took readings and stuff, tried to figure out what had happened. He got all kinds of data on the Nexus, how it moves, how it works—I mean, there’s still a ton we don’t know, but I’m almost sure we know enough.”

Spock’s eyes were zipping over Jim’s PADD and Jim was pretty sure he was about to win this round.

“My counterpart willingly provided you this information?”

“Uh, yeah. Mostly.”

Spock gave him the eyebrow Jim had affectionately named “the skeptical, judgey one.” Jim shifted uncomfortably, eyes on his fingers as they traced guilty patterns on the bedspread.

“I might have sent him some chocolates in a big heart box because I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a romantic gesture like that if it came from me. And he may have called me after he ate them and I may have asked some leading questions. And he was maybe so drunk and sad that he spilled way more than he should have. That could have been my goal in the first place?” He peeked hopefully at Spock but, as he suspected, found nothing in his face but an impending lecture.

Spock let the PADD drop into his lap. “Jim! You manipulated him using intoxicants to obtain information which does not belong in this time!”

“It’s for his own good! And you don’t even like him!”

Spock shook his head, but went back to Jim’s notes. Jim sighed in relief—damn Vulcans and their conception of ethics as utterly unbendable. After a few minutes, Jim hesitantly tried pushing again.

“I used the location of the Nexus at the time of my counterpart’s death to trace its path backwards in time and extrapolate its approximate current location. I took some subspace readings—they definitely suggest an energy anomaly in that area. And I think I figured out how to use the transporter to enter it—much safer.”

“But did your counterpart not die preventing a disaster and saving billions of lives? If you were to remove him from the Nexus prior to his death, he would not be there to serve that purpose, and the time continuum could be altered completely.”

“Yeah, that was the biggest problem, but Old You told me a really weird thing about it. He said that Captain Picard—he’s the _Enterprise_ ’s captain from that part of the future, I guess—went into the Nexus and while he was there, he met what Spock called “an echo” of the ship’s bartender. She had been there a long time ago, and then left. But this… impression of her stayed behind.”

“You intend for an impression of your counterpart to remain and assist Captain Picard at the necessary time.”

“Exactly.”

“But Jim, your counterpart _left_ the Nexus. He died outside of its bounds.”

“Right, but that got me thinking. So I dug into it, and I’m pretty sure the echoes are extensions of the Nexus energy. That means that the Nexus can basically throw the echoes _out_ into the surrounding space for a short period of time, as long as the Nexus stays in close proximity. _And_ when Old You went to find Old Me’s body, it was gone. He figured animals got to it or something, but what if it was gone because it never really existed? It was just an echo.”

“And if that is the case, you plan to simply march into the Nexus and convince your other self to leave? If he is immersed in his ultimate fantasy, I imagine that would be no small task.”

“I don’t know,” Jim said, wrinkling his nose. “I might have to just figure that out when I get in there. Picard’s description of the other me was bizarre. I guess his ‘ultimate fantasy’ was chopping wood and planning to propose to some woman. That sound like me to you?”

Spock’s eyes went a little dark. “You do enjoy physical activity,” he said neutrally. Jim rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the part I mean. Obviously.”

“You cannot know the mind of your other self. Perhaps he did not love my counterpart as much as he was loved by him.”

“Yeah, your other self certainly thought that. Pretty sure that’s the reason he never tried to do something like this himself. He was totally paralyzed with self-doubt and grief. But I don’t think it adds up, even if you take away the random woman. _That’s_ my ultimate fantasy? Grounded forever, chilling out in Iowa? No adventure, no _Enterprise_ , just—quiet? It doesn’t sit right with me. I think there’s more going on.”

Spock stared at him for a long time, his face carefully schooled into an expressionlessness even Jim couldn’t decipher. Then he touched his fingertips to his forehead, apparently suffering from yet another Kirk-induced headache.

Jim grinned. “You’re doing that thing.”

Spock glared at him. Jim grinned harder.

“To what ‘ _thing_ ’ do you refer?”

“That thing you do when I’m being too much of a genius for you to talk me out of something you don’t want me to do.”

Spock sighed. He fiddled with the frame of Jim’s PADD, a sure sign he knew he had lost.

“This is impressive work, I cannot deny that. I will indeed review it and determine if your findings are sound.”

“HA!” Jim pumped the air with his fist. “Thank you! You’re amazing!”

He leaned over to throw his arms around Spock’s neck and plant a few sloppy kisses on his cheek, which Spock irritably wiped away. As Jim sat back to bask in his glory, however, Spock turned an imploring look in his direction that quickly sobered him.

“I know you are determined. I know that, as long as your science is correct, there is virtually nothing I can do to dissuade you from this. But I am begging you, Jim. In attempting to return yourself to me in another lifetime, please do not take yourself from me in this one.”

Jim reached out and curled his hand around the back of Spock’s neck. “I won’t. I promise. I’d do anything to keep you from being hurt.”

Spock closed his eyes, his mouth a sad line. “This is why I dislike my counterpart. When you promise not to hurt me, I am not always certain which Spock you are protecting.”

\---

Jim’s science was perfect, of course. Over the next month, Spock quietly took over the project, filling in any gaps Jim had left and making the necessary preparations. Jim let him—if it reassured Spock to be the one in control, why fight it? And besides, although Jim was undoubtedly a genius, Spock could out-genius him any day. It probably _was_ safer to let him take the lead. Jim wouldn’t admit it, but he was deeply uncertain that they could actually achieve this goal.

But he had to try.

When Spock reluctantly declared his preparations complete, Jim managed to get orders to take the _Enterprise_ to the sector of space where the Nexus was soon due to appear. Starfleet approved the mission under the pretense of scanning a nebula where Commander Scott had detected traces of dilithium. If those readings turned out to be the result of instrumental error, and if Jim and Spock happened to rescue Jim’s counterpart in the meantime, surely the admiralty would understand.

On the morning they were planning to enter the Nexus, Jim woke up to Spock curled against his back, arms too tight around his waist.

Voice still thick with sleep, he asked, “Are you awake anxious or asleep anxious?”

“Awake,” Spock murmured into Jim’s neck, breath warm.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Jim reassured, although Spock could probably feel his doubt wherever their skin was touching.

They lay in silence for a few minutes as they often did, hyperaware of each other, always a little surprised that they were really here, really together—it felt so right it was almost hard to believe it was actually happening.

Eventually, though, Jim began to notice that the sounds of the ship were louder and busier than usual, and he untangled himself, sitting up a little so he could hear better.

“What’s up with all the noise?”

“I assume the crew is engaging in excited holiday preparation because it is Christmas Eve.”

“Huh?” Jim turned to look at him. “It is?”

“Yes, Captain. Have you truly been unaware of the obsessive and distracting festivities that have infected the ship?”

Jim smiled at Spock’s irritation—he was always so perplexed by human celebrations—and got up to search for his clothes.

“No, I mean, I know it’s Christmastime, but I guess I didn’t realize it was actually tomorrow.”

Truthfully, Jim had been so engrossed in the Nexus plan that he was barely aware of anything else. Now it occurred to him that he might be delivering his counterpart to Old Spock on Christmas day, all but tied up with a red bow. He snickered at the mental image— _Hey, Old Man, I got you a great present this year!—_ but then shook his head. It was time to be serious and focus.

Still, he gave Spock a little smile and murmured, “If this works, we might just get the other me home for Christmas. That’d be pretty cool.”

Spock looked at him, long and level, but didn’t seem to have an answer.

When they swept into the transporter room an hour later, they found Bones standing so close to the transporter pad that Jim was worried about him getting sucked in by the beam. His arms were crossed and his face was stuck at the maximum scowl setting.

“It’s goddamn foolhardy, Jim.”

As he and Spock mounted the pad, Jim threw up his hands in a weak display of irritation. “That’s the third time you’ve said that in like 12 hours, Bones. Pretty sure we hear your opinion loud and clear.”

Bones huffed and looked away, staring at the screen on the transporter control panel that replicated the bridge’s view of space. A few thousand kilometers away, as far as they could get and still remain in transporter range, the sparking Nexus thrashed like an electrical wire on some technological backwater of a planet.

At the panel, Scotty was busy ignoring the bickering and making sure the transporter settings were correct. When he gave Jim a thumbs up, Jim straightened his spine and valiantly tried to pretend he wasn’t nervous.

“We’ll see you in a few seconds, Bones,” he promised. “Right, Spock?”

“I have personally programmed the transporter to receive us from the Nexus within a range of thirty-seven seconds from our departure. But that is only assuming we are successful and that there are no unanticipated problems.”

Bones barked a humorless laugh. “Even your hobgoblin boyfriend agrees with me, Jim.”

Both commanding officers glared at him. “We’ll be fine,” Jim assured him with more confidence than he actually felt. He reached out and took Spock’s hand. Usually he wouldn’t dream of doing that on duty, and in front of Scotty no less, but If they were separated within the Nexus, things were bound to go downhill fast. Spock gripped him with more strength than he usually allowed himself, and Jim turned to Scotty.

“Energize.”

They were flung forward into a seething mass that jostled and spun them like flotsam on a tidal wave. Spock’s hand slipped away and try as he might, Jim couldn’t find it again. But as quickly as the lurching started, it stopped, and out of the wild crackling and flashing of the Nexus ribbon, Jim felt himself slip gently onto a cold, icy ground, landing on his back with a soft bump. 

He couldn’t quite see, and the spinning surface under him felt tilted. But he groped blindly for Spock and found him a few inches away. He fumbled for his hand and knotted their fingers back together, trying desperately to prevent them from being separated again.

When his vision cleared, Spock was leaning over him, still lying down but obviously getting his bearings faster than Jim.

“Are you injured?” he asked, and Jim shook his head.

“You?”

“I am not.”

Spock looked around. Jim was still too dizzy to even lift his head, so he just watched Spock’s eyes flick across their surroundings. Spock’s free hand was resting on Jim’s chest, and Jim focused on its reassuring warmth until his disorientation started to recede.

“We are at your farmhouse,” Spock said quietly.

“Huh?” Jim managed to sit up a little onto his elbows and look around.

It was definitely Iowa, and definitely the ramshackle farmhouse where Jim had grown up, but it was… different. Jim was pretty sure it was different, anyway; he couldn’t quite remember what it was supposed to look like.

There was a thick blanket of snow on everything in sight. The yards and gardens and fields were free of junk and debris. The house sparkled with icicles and Jim thought it looked tidier, brighter than it did in reality. But he wasn’t sure.

Spock seemed equally confused, his eyebrows wrinkled in concentration.

“I am experiencing an altered state of mind,” he murmured. “We must do all we can to remember that we are in the Nexus and that we aim to leave it as soon as we are able to locate your counterpart.”

“Yeah,” Jim said vaguely. His brain felt full of cotton.

Spock got to his feet and helped Jim up. They made their way through the snow to the farmhouse, and Jim noticed that they were both wearing warm winter clothes—hats and snow pants, a warm sweater and thermal shirt for Jim, a thick coat for Spock.

Had they been wearing those before? When they woke up? Jim couldn’t remember.

The front door of the house was unlocked, and they slipped inside. They shed their outer layers in a haze, looking around the familiar/unfamiliar living room. It must have been Christmastime here, too, because the interior of the house was decorated cozily, strings of bells and lights hanging from the ceilings and walls, pine boughs and wreaths giving off a clean, cold smell.

There was a big, lavish Christmas tree across from the living room sofa, ornaments glinting in the light from a fire burning merrily in the fireplace. On the side table were two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Suddenly a rush of _confusion/anticipation/fear/longing_ flooded into Jim’s brain, an onslaught of emotions that weren’t his own. He turned to look at Spock—these feelings had an essential Spockness that Jim couldn’t quite explain. He found Spock staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in surprise. Another wave of feelings poured into Jim, _love/devotion/possession/ mine/joy/longing/love_.

“Is that you in my head?” Jim asked, scrunching his eyes against the unfamiliar sensation.

“Yes,” Spock said, and Jim thought he sounded almost reverent. “We are _telsu_.”

“Wait, _bonded_? This is what a bond feels like?”

“Yes,” Spock murmured, crossing the room and tracing devoted fingers against his chest, leaning in to kiss him. Jim humored him until it became clear that he had no intention of stopping, then gently pulled away.

“Spock, none of this is real, remember? You _just_ said we have to remember that.”

Spock looked confused and disoriented, which was confirmed by the sudden presence of those feelings in Jim’s head. It was strange how quickly Jim was acclimating to this bond, or imaginary bond, or whatever it was—his mind seemed instinctively ready to welcome and process Spock’s emotions without Jim’s own mental faculties being impaired.

Spock took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself, clinging to Jim’s arms like Jim was a cliff he was about to fall from.

“Yes. Yes, you are right, Jim. I must– it is difficult– this is a highly desirable state for a telepath.”

“I know,” Jim ran his hands up Spock’s sides reassuringly, but struggled against Spock’s hold enough that Spock noticed and let him go. “But it’s not real. We need to find the other me and get back to the real world.”

Spock nodded, a deep, hollow sadness in his eyes, and then in Jim’s brain. Jim took his hand and squeezed it once, and was about to pull Spock through to the kitchen when a sudden wave of lust slapped him like an electric shock. It was so strong and unexpected that Jim’s knees buckled, his dick instantly, painfully hard.

“Jesus, Spock!” he gasped, seizing Spock’s arms to steady himself.

Spock had the good grace to look sheepish, but an olive blush had already crept across his face and his eyes flicked less than subtly to Jim’s erection.

“I apologize. As I said, this– a bond is a Vulcan’s most primal desire. It represents security... and safety… I find I deeply wish to– to consummate it.”

The heat from the fireplace was suddenly too intense on Jim’s skin, burning him from one side while Spock’s boiling desire assaulted him from the other. His blood was alight with need for Jim and Jim could _feel_ it, could feel Spock’s desperation and naked want as if they were his own.

He had no idea how Spock was still talking—Jim could barely even think. He was vaguely aware that he was supposed to be remembering something right now, but trying to find that memory through the smoke and spark of Spock’s lust was all but impossible. He whined, a helpless little sound that caused Spock to flood the bond with renewed desire as well as tender protectiveness.

The next thing Jim knew his mouth was crushed against Spock’s, his lips being alternately bitten and sucked, Spock’s hands gripping bruises into his ass. Spock steered them farther into the living room and then suddenly Jim was on the floor near the fireplace, Spock looming over him with reckless heat in his eyes.

Jim felt his pants being ripped off, hopefully in one piece, and then Spock’s fingers were at his hole, impatient, hasty. But even in this fevered state, Jim could feel that Spock was entirely reluctant to hurt him, and he did no more than rub firmly at Jim with two fingertips.

“It’s ok,” Jim rasped. “It’s ok. I want you inside me, now. Now. I don’t care if it hurts.”

But Spock just stared at him for a long moment before he stood up to shuck his own pants. He rubbed his copiously leaking cock and then he was back, hovering over Jim and pressing two now-slightly-lubricated fingers against him and then inside him.

There was a small burn, nothing Jim couldn’t handle, and he rode out the wave of pain as Spock fucked into him, not giving his muscles any time to adjust. But Jim’s body was used to Spock’s invasion, and he was loose soon enough, rocking back against Spock’s thrusts.

“Fuck, sweetheart, yeah. Yeah. Oh my god, Spock, Sp– fuck, Spock, Spock, ah, ah—”

Jim could feel him, could feel the press of his fingers in his body and the thrum of _want/want/want/mine/Jim/mine/Jim/touching/never/always_ in his head. It was an intoxicating combination, and he began to float, to detach from conscious thought and drift on the wave of this thing between them.

Spock slammed against his prostate until Jim’s cock was weeping. Spock leaned down to press a shivery kiss to the purpling head, at the seam where it touched his shaft, and then withdrew his fingers roughly.

“Are you prepared for full penetration?” he asked, and Jim could feel in the bond that he was at the very edge of his control.

“Yeah,” Jim whimpered. “You don’t have to ask anything else.”

Spock took him at his word. He slammed inside him in one motion, and Jim thought maybe it hurt a little, but he was so spaced out that all he felt was the overstimulation, the incredible fullness and the loss of autonomy, the surrendering of himself to Spock’s protective domination.

Jim’s feelings for Spock were so all-encompassing, so strong and in such direct contrast to his long-established self-sufficiency that Jim naturally yielded to him, lost himself in submission. For all that Spock was a loyal subordinate when they were on duty, Jim knew that Spock was stronger, smarter, more in control than Jim could ever hope to be, and so he gave, he gave, and his will folded under each thrust and slam.

The presence of Spock in his head was electric and transcendent, the safety and sweetness Jim felt in the bond so perfect and unbearable that Jim was on the verge of climax almost immediately.

Spock raised trembling fingers to his meld points and then they were together, entirely together in their own private universe, the bond a place unto itself, a separate season. Jim came into this alien place, this familiar, unknown country, and as he sobbed through it he felt Spock cradling him in both body and mind. Spock’s orgasm followed soon after, so strong and extreme that it left Jim gasping and whimpering.

Seconds, hours, lifetimes later, Jim came back to consciousness, curled in a ball with the heat of the fire licking his front, Spock’s unnatural heat against his back. The bond was a rocking current of contentment and satisfaction.

“I love you,” Spock whispered, whether in the bond or outside of it Jim wasn’t sure. He had no idea how to respond telepathically, so he formed his sluggish tongue into the appropriate words.

“I love you, too. Oh my god, I love you so much.”

Spock’s hand trailed up Jim’s hip and he pressed a few small kisses to the back of his neck. Jim mentally curled into the warm bond and felt Spock’s pleasure at Jim’s enjoyment of the telepathic connection.

“While we’re here,” he muttered, “We should go fuck in the barn. I always used to bring people there to fool around when I was in high school.”

Spock chuckled against his skin. “I would deeply enjoy taking you in any place that others have had you.”

But Jim was suddenly distracted. Something was snagging in his memory. The barn. The barn. The…

The barn.

“Fuck, Spock.”

“Jim—”

Jim sat up and scrambled away from him. He felt alarm and hurt flare down the bond. “We’re in the Nexus, Spock. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Remember?”

Spock stared at him, expressionless, but Jim could see the recognition in his eyes—no, he could feel it in the bond.

“We need to go,” Jim whispered. He scrambled up and found his pants (thankfully still intact) and yanked them on. He tossed Spock’s to him, but Spock was frozen, staring into the fire. The pants landed next to him, ignored.

Jim had to drag Spock off the floor. As Spock robotically put on his pants, Jim could feel his panic and longing and grief, but he closed himself off to it. With a painful snap, the bond disappeared. Spock gasped and gave Jim a look of pure shock and betrayal, but Jim turned away and pulled his husband— _no_ , his boyfriend—through the kitchen, back out the door.

The snow was gone. The air was chilly, but more like fall than winter. Spock wrapped his arms around himself, trembling, but Jim didn’t think that was because of the temperature. 

“Let’s just get this done, ok?” Jim asked, pleading. Spock looked up at him, his eyes so, so sad. Jim had caused this, this had been his idea, but he pushed his guilt away. He had to focus, or they’d never get out of here. He put his arms around Spock and squeezed him. “It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok. But we need to leave here soon, or we’re gonna get stuck. Ok?”

Spock nodded silently, resting his cheek against Jim’s shoulder. Jim was tempted to stay like this, Spock warm in the confines of his arms, safe and protected. Jim could take care of him, keep him from harm—

Jim stepped back quickly. “Fuck. Ok, we _have_ to concentrate. Old You said Captain Picard found Old Me outside the barn.”

Spock nodded again, this time like he was trying to remind himself. “Yes. The restored barn which your paternal family once used as a guest house.”

Jim took Spock’s hand and led him away from the farmhouse, down a sloping field toward his father’s barn. He’d only seen it in a usable condition in holos; Frank had eventually taken over the whole property because his mom had started spending as little time on it as possible. And Frank had let it fall into a collection of dilapidated shacks.

But here, of course, the barn was perfect—a gingerbread house made of stone and rustic wood, surrounded by trees aflame with fall leaves. As they got closer, Jim muttered, “Ok, so where would old me go to chop wood?”

As if on cue, the crack of a log being split echoed across the fields. Spock stopped in his tracks. “I am not prepared for this.”

Jim tightened his hold on Spock’s hand and forced him to keep moving. “For what?”

“For meeting your counterpart. I am not prepared for a version of you that does not remember what I am to you, that is romantically involved with another.”

“It’s not real, Spock. None of this is real.”

“Is it the case, then, that you do not desire to bond with me?”

Jim took a steadying breath as they approached the barn, following the chopping sounds that seemed to be coming from the back of the building.

“Spock, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Look, Old You seemed to think that anyone in the Nexus was free to leave at any time. But I’m thinking that’s not quite right. I think you can leave if you want to, but first you have to _remember_ that you want to. I think the Nexus wants people to stay—so it gives them fantasies that will keep them distracted, make them _want_ to stay.”

Spock ground to a halt and this time Jim couldn’t make him budge. He huffed and turned around.

“Spock, sweetheart, we _need to go_. You’re letting this place control you. We need to get out as soon as possible.”

“I still fail to see how anything you have said contradicts my fear that you do not want what we have experienced here.”

Jim took hold of Spock’s arms. “Spock! We’re _together_. The other me is _alone_. If I was trapped somewhere, the only thing in the _entire fucking universe_ that would keep me from fighting to escape and get back to you would be something screwing with my memory.

“If I’m right, and the Nexus wants to keep people here—it _had_ to make the other me forget the other you. He would have left instantly if he remembered that he’d abandoned his goddamn husband back in the real world with a broken bond and decades of heartbreak ahead of him. Keeping him here meant showing him a fantasy that was _almost_ right, but missing the one thing that would make him leave. But to keep you and me here _together_ , all the Nexus had to do was show us our _actual_ perfect fantasy. Don’t you get it? What just happened to us is _exactly_ what I fucking want, ok?”

Spock stared at him, desolate and helpless. He was doing a terrible job of fighting against the pull of the Nexus and Jim was suddenly exhausted. This was all up to him.

“Come on,” he muttered, and grabbed Spock’s hand again. This time, at least, Spock let him drag him toward the back of the barn.

As they rounded the corner, Jim caught sight of his counterpart. He froze for a moment, disoriented by this older, stockier version of himself, hair curlier, grayer. He had an unfamiliar Starfleet uniform on and didn’t look especially impressive. He was rhythmically setting up logs and swinging his axe, his eyes bright but somewhat blank.

Jim shook himself and pushed forward. Spock stayed with him but fell behind, hovering nervously at Jim’s back.

Old Kirk looked up as he heard them approach, and smiled. “Hey there. Nice day, huh?”

He was talking about the weather. He was a hero, a starship captain, a human with a universe-altering bond to a beautiful Vulcan, and he was talking about the goddamn weather.

“Yeah,” Jim said, stopping a few feet away. “Sure. So, you’re Jim Kirk.”

“The very same.”

“Ok. Look, I need you to listen to me right now. You’re in the Nexus. Do you know what that is?”

Kirk looked at him vaguely. “Don’t think so.”

“You were on the _Enterprise_ -B. You got sucked out of the ship trying to escape an energy ribbon. Do you remember that?”

Kirk looked off into the distance. After a minute, he loaded up another log and split it. Spock grabbed Jim’s shirt and fisted the fabric in both hands. Jim reached back and distractedly ran a reassuring hand against him.

“Jim,” Jim pressed. “Do you remember that?”

“Sort of,” said Kirk, brushing sawdust off his weird uniform. “The missions all start to blend together after a while.”

“That wasn’t a mission—you were just there for press. But you got sucked into the energy ribbon, the Nexus. It shows you a fantasy good enough to keep you trapped here, and you’ve been stuck for decades. None of this is real. Nothing you have here is real.”

Kirk finally turned and took a good look at him, squinting at him sceptically. It made the hair on Jim’s neck stand up. It was creepy, being stared at by himself. “You look like me.”

Jim huffed. “I _am_ you. I’m you from another universe. But that’s not important right now. We need to—”

“Who’s your shy boyfriend there?” Kirk interrupted. Spock tucked himself a little more behind Jim. 

“It’s Spock. It’s _Spock_ , Jim. Don’t you remember Spock? Your bondmate?”

Kirk laughed. “Spock isn’t my bondmate. He was my first officer.” His eyes went dull and unfocused again. “I should comm him. Haven’t talked to him in ages.”

Spock made a wounded little noise. “It’s not _real_ ,” Jim hissed over his shoulder. He turned back to Kirk and snapped his fingers, bringing the man’s attention back to him.

“He _is_ your bondmate. Your husband. And he’s out there, in the real world, broken and mangled without you. You have to try to _remember_. You need to come with us, let us take you to him.”

Kirk’s eyebrows furrowed. “Spock wouldn’t marry me. He doesn’t have feelings. Besides, I’m with a woman. Antonia. I’m going to propose to her at some point.”

“None of that’s _real_!” Jim yelled, losing his patience. Kirk just raised his eyebrows and went back to his chopping. Jim clenched his fists and was about to get up in Kirk’s face, force him to remember, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder, stilling him.

“Let me try,” Spock whispered. His voice was shaky, as if just saying the words cost him, but he stepped slowly out from behind Jim and walked a few paces closer to his counterpart.

“Jim?” he said quietly. Kirk glanced up and then away.

“Jim,” Spock said again, louder this time, and Kirk finally focused on him. For a moment he looked confused, but then he said hesitantly, “Spock? God, is that you? You look so young.”

“Yes, Jim. I am Spock. I am gratified that you remember me.”

“You look great. Gorgeous.” Kirk tilted his head at that, like he wasn’t quite sure why he had said it.

Spock took a few tentative steps closer, approaching Jim like a startled animal.

“Thank you, Jim. You are also quite beautiful.” He reached out and laid a hand against Kirk’s cheek. Kirk took a sharp breath and raised his hand to cover Spock’s, then looked confused again as if he hadn’t meant to do that.

“I need you, Jim. Please, try. Try to remember. I can no longer go on without you.”

Kirk stared at him for so long that it felt like Jim, Spock—the entire Nexus—were holding their breath, listening in fearful anticipation. Jim tried to calm his hammering heart rate, ignore the impulse to go and tear Spock away from this alternate Jim, reassure him and protect him and love him until Spock never doubted him again. He desperately reminded himself that Spock didn’t _really_ need this Jim. Spock was talking for his counterpart. The old man that Jim cared for so deeply, that he was risking everything for.

Finally, Kirk gasped and grabbed Spock’s shoulders. Spock’s hand fell away from his face and he reached up to light his fingers on Kirk’s arms.

“ _Spock_ ,” Kirk breathed. “Oh my god– _Spock_.”

And then he kissed him. Hard.

Jim saw Spock jump but he didn’t pull away, accepting the force of Kirk’s kiss with a slow sweetness, his thumbs rubbing at Kirk’s elbows.

Jim shifted on his feet. Ok, maybe watching your boyfriend interact with an alternate version of you sucked _a little_. He would let Spock gloat about it when they got back. Maybe.

After a very long minute, he called, “Ok, hey! Cool it!” and they broke apart, both looking confused and slightly surprised at Jim’s continued presence. Kirk’s eyes started to get that confused haze again and Jim strode over. They needed to get out _now_.

He pulled Spock roughly to him—because they needed to move quickly, not for _any other reason and definitely not because he was jealous_. To Kirk, he said, “You need to follow us, but it will only work if you _want_ to leave, ok? Spock needs you outside, not in here. Do you remember that?”

Kirk swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I need to get out of here. I need to get to Spock.”

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go.”

A white chasm of light opened before them as their collective desire to leave flared to life. Jim held Spock’s hand as tightly as he could and they ran at it, the other Kirk’s face set in a determination Jim instantly recognized within himself.

The light blinded them as they hit it, enveloping them and lifting them out of gravity, into the teeming border of the Nexus, but only for a moment. They all tumbled onto the transporter pad, Jim landing hard on his ass. He momentarily panicked when he realized Spock’s hand was no longer in his, but then he felt him against his shoulder, and the familiar, _real_ sensation of being back in their own dimension began to set in.

With a surprisingly gentle, “Damnit, Jim!” Bones was suddenly rushing at them, tricorder brandished and whirring.

Jim closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, letting Bones fuss over him. By the time he opened them again, his friend was leaning over Kirk, who was staring up at him in disbelief.

“ _Bones_?” he whispered, and Bones gave him a small, slightly uncertain smile and patted his shoulder.

“Hey, Jim. Welcome home.”

\---

Bones made all three of them report to sickbay for a thorough once-over, but could find no lasting physical effects of their time in the Nexus. Spock was subdued and would barely look at Jim, but kept sitting way too close, like he was mad at Jim but wanted his comfort at the same time.

Kirk started getting antsy about a half an hour into Bones’s examination, and kept trying to ask questions about his Spock and this new universe. Jim could see the cogs going in his mind, working things through, his thoughts clear for the first time in so long. But he didn’t have enough information and was getting more frustrated each time he was interrupted by a passing nurse or Bones telling him to, “Shut the hell up, I’m trying to check your throat!”

Jim managed to get Bones to release them sooner than he usually would, reminding him that there was _a lot_ of explaining to be done and that what they all really needed was sleep, which they wouldn’t get until the talking was over.

For that reason, he shepherded his counterpart and Spock into his quarters rather than a conference room. Before anything else could happen, he needed to put on sweats and pour himself a whiskey.

Spock chose not to relax at all, a sure sign that he was still stressed, and sat straight-backed at Jim’s desk. Both Kirks collapsed on the couch, Jim wordlessly handing Kirk his own drink and Kirk wordlessly accepting it.

There was a long, slightly awkward silence, as if no one quite knew where to begin.

“So, you’re not _my_ Spock,” Kirk said finally.

Spock shook his head slightly. “I am not. But your Spock _is_ here, in this universe. He has been without you for 97 years.”

Kirk’s eyes fluttered closed. Jim guessed he had probably already done a rough calculation of the time on his own, but had been hoping he was wrong. “Oh my god. And all this time… he thought I was dead?”

Jim and Spock exchanged a glance and hesitated. But he needed to know. Jim took a long, deep drink and didn’t look at his counterpart as he said, “Actually, Spock did find out about the Nexus, because you _did_ actually manage to leave it. You were trying to save a planet. But you died like five minutes after you got out.”

“An echo of you will be preserved in the Nexus to complete this task,” Spock assured him, although Jim suspected his other self hadn’t even thought to worry about that yet.

Kirk stared at them. “So… so for him it was like I died twice?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Kirk let his head fall back. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Spock. How could I– I mean how could I not remember, I–”

Staring at Jim’s desktop but clearly not seeing it, Spock said quietly, “Your counterpart’s theory, which I believe has merit, is that the Nexus allows its residents to leave, but aims to prevent them from doing so by offering a vision so tempting they are not compelled to escape. We believe the Nexus altered your memories so that you would not try to get back to your bondmate.”

Kirk took a few deep breaths. “Does Spock know? That you were coming to get me?”

“No way." Jim smiled weakly. "We didn't want to get his hopes up, in case it didn't work. And we're not going to now, either—we figure it would be worse for him, knowing you’re here and waiting for the ship to arrive. We’re just going to take you to him. We’re already en route to New Vulcan.”

“ _New_ Vulcan?”

God, there was too much to explain. “Ok, so a long time after you died, Spock was doing all this diplomatic stuff with the Romulans, and he was trying to prevent Romulus from getting blown up by a star going supernova. He made a black hole to swallow the star, but he didn’t do it in time, and Romulus was destroyed. Spock and this crazy Romulan, Nero, got pulled back in time through the wormhole. Nero destroyed Vulcan in revenge for Spock not saving Romulus, and the timeline was altered. So this is an alternate universe to the one you come from.”

Kirk stared at him for a long time before slowly turning to Spock. “The _entire_ planet?”

“Yes. A colony was established by my counterpart where the remaining members of the Vulcan species are attempting to rebuild.”

“My God, Spock. _S'ti th'laktra_.”

Spock took a sharp little breath at the (poorly pronounced) Vulcan words, and smiled ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

“You speak Vulcan? No offense, but your accent sucks,” Jim said, watching the way their eyes found each other like magnets, and reminding himself again to forgive Spock for his jealousy. Maybe.

Kirk broke Spock’s stare and smiled faintly. “My Spock taught me a little Vulcan over the years. Not much—like you said, could never get the accent.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “So, what’s Spock doing now? Is he ok?”

“He’s on the colony. He’s one of the major organizers of the rebuilding effort. He works night and day, basically. And no, he’s not ok. Not even a little bit. When you died, it just… and then when you died the second time… He kind of just wasted away.”

Kirk closed his eyes, but not before a well of tears made the foreign amber color glossy.

“Jim,” Spock said, with a note of gentle reproach. “None of that is your counterpart’s fault.”

Jim shrugged defensively. “I didn’t say it was. But he needs to know. We can’t just drop him on New Vulcan with no warning that his bondmate is barely a shell of himself.”

“You are being dramatic, and not giving him enough credit. He is perfectly functional.”

“Ok, so he’s functional. But you don’t know what it’s like inside his head.” He looked away, his voice dropping, dark and quiet. “He always tried to shield, but sometimes he would slip. Sometimes he would just project _so loud_ , and it felt like… like he was drowning in black water.”

Kirk’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You would have had to be touching him pretty closely to feel something like that without a bond.”

“Well,” Jim muttered, “obviously I was.”

Spock clarified, “Jim and my counterpart were engaged in a sexual relationship for 11.46 months.”

Kirk’s eyes went wide. “ _My_ Spock? And you?” he pointed at Jim.

“You were gone,” Jim accused, “and he was so alone. He was _desperate_.”

To Jim’s surprise, his counterpart laughed, a round, bright sound Jim didn’t think he’d ever made in his life. “Kid, you can fuck my husband all you want. I’m just impressed with him—159 and he bedded a pouty little blue-eyed boy like you!”

“I’m not pouty,” Jim pouted.

“It is worth noting,” Spock said drily, clearly a little taken aback by Kirk’s total lack of jealousy, “that this affair ended nearly 15 months ago.”

Kirk looked between the two young men and smiled slowly, wide and warm.

“You guys are already together, then.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Spock asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, darling. I lived in your brain for 22 years. I’d recognize the sound of a jealous Spock anywhere in the galaxy.”

Jim snorted. Spock glared at both of them.

They talked for what felt like five more hours but was really only two, until Jim finally ordered everyone to bed. He thrust a PADD at Kirk and told him to figure the rest out for himself, and that they could keep talking in the morning if they needed to. Kirk complained about taking orders from a captain barely out of the Academy, but Jim threw up his hands and said he didn’t care who gave the orders, he just wanted to fucking sleep.

Spock, who had wilted and closed off the longer the conversation had gone on, drifted into their bedroom and Jim took his alternate self through the bathroom into Spock’s quarters. He got him settled with extra pillows and things, and repeated their estimated time of arrival on New Vulcan five times— _Fine! I’ll increase to warp eight and_ you _deal with Scotty when the engines explode!_ —before dragging himself back to his own quarters.

Truthfully, he knew that sleep was not actually in his immediate future. A giant talk with Spock was all but unavoidable, no matter how tired he was.

Spock wasn’t in Jim’s quarters, though, and all of his personal communication devices were neatly stacked on Jim’s desk.

“Computer, locate Commander Spock.”

“Commander Spock is located in Observation Deck B, Captain.”

Jim found his first officer in a quiet corner of the observation deck, tucked among some plants and gazing out at the vista of deep space. He looked up as Jim approached, but averted his eyes again when he established it was just his captain. Jim took his silent place at Spock’s side and let the quiet drift for a few minutes.

Finally he said, “I’m thinking about renaming this the Angsting Deck. Seems like a lot more of that goes on here than observing.”

With relief, Jim watched Spock smile softly.

“Perhaps that would be a logical change.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mad at me or not.”

“I am not.”

“You didn’t want to do this. Go to the Nexus. But I made you and what we saw there fucked you up. I– I promised I wasn’t going to hurt you and then I did.”

Spock turned to regard him. “As usual, in this decision your emotional intelligence was greater than I initially gave you credit for, and certainly greater than my own. Entering the Nexus was the correct choice. I hope that if I were ever in the same position as my counterpart, there would be a James Kirk somewhere willing to retrieve you from where I could not go.

But Jim, despite fourteen months, three weeks, and five days of a romantic relationship, I am still sometimes shocked at how deeply I feel for you. I was reminded by our shared vision in the Nexus that I want things from you that are not… casual.”

Jim leaned his back against the observation window so he could see Spock’s face and crossed his arms. Rationally, he knew that transparent aluminum didn’t get cold like a glass window did in winter, but he still shivered whenever he touched the thin material separating them from the freezing void of space.

“Do you think what I want with you is casual?"

“I am uncertain. I understand that you do not seek a casual relationship in the human sense—a hook-up, as you would say—but what a Vulcan wants from a mate is a level of commitment rarely made by humans.”

“I know that. Spock, I’m right here—are you going to ask me to commit, or are you just going to keep assuming you know what I’m thinking and what I want?”

Spock finally looked up. Jim was staring him down, blue eyes hot, no trace of uncertainty.

“I am not convinced you understand what you are offering.”

“Of course I do. I mean, we’re talking about the bond, right?”

Spock nodded and said softly, “The bond is much to ask of a psi-null human. There are also certain… responsibilities a bondmate must fulfill that we have never discussed.”

“What, _pon farr_?”

Spock felt almost every cell of his skin turn green. To hear a human so casually say those words was shocking and strange and… slightly arousing.

“How do you know about that?” he said sharply.

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you one guess.”

“My elder counterpart revealed that to you? That is _extremely_ private information.”

“Well,” Jim shrugged. “He’s terrible at keeping secrets about his timeline. Like, he’s really just terrible at it. And he said I should be prepared because only I could put out your fire, or something like that.”

Spock couldn’t help but shiver. It was all too tempting to imagine that when he burned, the cool body beneath him would be Jim’s.

“But the point is—I know what the bond is, what it entails, I know it’s forever, I know it’s more than a human marriage. I know all that. And now I know what it feels like, having you in my head. And you know what? It feels fucking great. So just tell me what _you_ want, ok? Is a bond what you want from me?” 

Spock was refusing to look at him again, but a reflection of the distant stars flashed in his eyes as he looked stubbornly out the observation window. “Yes,” he whispered, so quietly Jim could barely hear it.

“I have been content—no, I have been happy, extremely happy—in our relationship, but the experience of being bonded in the Nexus, of belonging to each other… It was torture for me to leave that, Jim. What we have now feels… empty.”

“Well, ok. We can bond as soon as you want.”

Spock looked at him in slight surprise. “Jim, the bond—”

“If you ask me one more goddamn time if I truly understand what I’m getting myself into, I’m rescinding the offer. I’m not just doing this for you. Like I said, this is what _I_ want.”

The reflection of space wavered a little in Spock’s eyes, but he didn’t look away to hide the emotion. “Is it truly?”

“Yes, you idiot. I want that and everything that comes with it. I want _you_ and the life our counterparts didn’t get to have. I want to be bonded to you _yesterday_.” He took a step closer to Spock so that their faces were almost touching. “When you’re inside me, I feel right. Whole. I hate when you leave, every _single_ time. I just want you to get inside me and _stay there_. Ok?”

Spock rested his fingers lightly on Jim’s cheeks, his eyes full of emotions he didn’t have words for. “Jim. Yes.”

Jim smiled. “Make an appointment with a healer for when we get to New Vulcan tomorrow. I’m done waiting.”

Spock sighed in obvious relief and kissed him over and over along the length of his neck, his collarbone, his jaw. As he did he whispered, “ _Dahshal s'nash-veh heh worla dahshal_.”

Jim closed his eyes and let his hand drift to the back of Spock’s neck. “Never and always touching and touched,” he finished.

Suddenly he laughed out loud. Spock looked up at him, his face entirely open and soft, and raised a questioning eyebrow, but Jim just shook his head.

“Spock—we’re getting married for Christmas.”

\---

Kirk didn’t sleep at all, stretched out in a bed belonging to the wrong Spock, on a strangely shiny version of his beloved ship, rocketing over the lightyears toward his abandoned bondmate.

Mostly he just read articles, trying to come to grips with this new universe. Or stared at the ceiling and tortured himself with thoughts of what the last 97 years had been like for Spock.

He finally gave up any hope of sleep at 0500 and got up, wandering around the younger Spock’s quarters. They were due to arrive in New Vulcan’s orbit in less than two hours, and by now Kirk was shaking in anticipation. It was still night on the colony, and dawn would only just be breaking when they got there. What if Spock was still asleep? What if waking up and seeing Kirk was too much, too shocking?”

_Christ,_ he thought. _Get a hold of yourself, Jim._

He trailed into the shared bathroom in search of a spare toothbrush, and found the door to his counterpart’s quarters slightly ajar. Unable to resist, Kirk peered through the thin sliver of air where the door didn’t quite meet the frame. Just as on his own ship, he could see through the living quarters into the bedroom.

Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one who couldn’t sleep, although this other Jim and Spock had found a much better solution.

He was too desperate for his own Spock to really appreciate it, but Kirk could distantly admire the sight of Spock’s lean, youthful back, rippling as he moved over Kirk’s counterpart. He could understand how his Spock’s relationship with the young Captain had become sexual so quickly; it wasn’t every day you ran into a nubile version of your husband, younger than you’d ever known him and pining for another you.

Kirk smiled softly and cocked his head, taking in the firm little ass of this young Spock, muscles tightening as his thrusts became sharper and more erratic. But Kirk could barely recognize himself in the soft, needy whimpers he could hear his counterpart making; there was something fundamentally different about him, some variance of life experience that distinguished them from each other.

It nearly made Kirk laugh, thinking of how this Jim must have seemed to the older Spock. Almost his bondmate, but now with an extra helping of emotional damage just begging to be treated with volatile Vulcan sex. Yeah, Kirk could imagine Spock eagerly filling that role.

But the need hadn’t all been Young Jim’s, if what he had said about the quality of Spock’s mind was true. Spock’s desperation for Kirk had compelled him to take this young man—little more than a boy, really—into his bed, only to be forced to surrender him yet again.

Kirk shook his head. They couldn’t get to New Vulcan fast enough.

In the captain’s quarters, Jim’s whimpers had become little cries and pleas. Kirk tuned into the words with interest; Jim was _so_ unlike himself, so uncertain.

“Spock? Spock, please! Don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, Spock, oh my g– Spock? Spock?”

The quicker Spock fucked him, the closer they both got to orgasm, the more desperate Jim’s begging became. Spock dipped down to kiss him and Kirk heard him whisper, “Shh, _ashaya_. Shh, I am here. You are perfect, so perfect.”

Kirk saw Jim’s feet curl against Spock’s back. “Yeah, yeah, fuck, right there, ri– fuck, Spock! Love you so much, love you s– don’t stop, don’t–”

He came with a strangled little sob, arching against the bed while Spock kept pounding him, hard and uncoordinated, until he too was stuttering his orgasm into his captain’s body.

As soon as Spock collapsed to his side, Jim curled against him and draped both an arm and a leg over his body. Kirk was pretty sure he was shivering as Spock pulled him close, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

It was so strange watching them, these altered, sadder versions of himself and his husband. Different as they were, though, as Kirk looked at them tucked against each other, murmuring softly, he was struck by how familiar they were as well. He had the eerie sensation of seeing himself from the outside, like an out-of-body experience.

Kirk slipped back into Spock's quarters and left the young officers to themselves. He heard one of them puttering around in the bathroom after a few minutes (Jim, he decided, based on the sound of something being dropped and the scrambling that followed), and then the hum of the sonic shower.

He checked the chrono and it was only 0527, so he flopped back onto the bed and opened another classified paper on the Narada incident. The PADD Jim had given him recognized all of his biological signatures as those of his counterpart, which conveniently gave him high-level access to Starfleet databases.

But the closer they came to New Vulcan the harder it was to focus, and Kirk finally tossed the PADD aside in defeat. He was thinking about going to pester the other Spock when a soft knock came from the bathroom.

“Come,” he said, and Spock entered, in sync with Kirk’s thoughts even in this strange new universe.

“Good morning, Captain. I wish to inquire if you need anything before our arrival at New Vulcan in one hour and forty-two minutes.”

Kirk looked him up and down, and found him much more relaxed today than he had been yesterday. Either the sex had calmed him down or, more likely, whatever had happened before the sex. God, but he was beautiful. Kirk grinned brightly at him and Spock’s ears went faintly green. Kirk laughed.

“You are so _cute_ ,” he said, and Spock’s blush deepened. “Anyway, thanks for asking, but I think I’m good. I’m too nervous to eat. Well, I guess some coffee would be nice.”

Spock nodded and crossed the quarters to the replicator.

“Plenty of milk and sugar,” Kirk said, and Spock glanced at him over his shoulder.

“I am aware.”

Kirk laughed again. “Oh, right.”

As Spock handed him his coffee, he stared at him with open curiosity. Kirk raised his eyebrows and smiled a slow smile, and there was that blush again. This Spock was _way_ too easy to manipulate.

Averting his eyes, Spock said, “You are much more... ebullient than my Jim.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. I think our lives must have been a lot different. But I was also much less cheery at his age. The farther he gets from Tarsus, the easier it’ll be. I’m assuming he _was_ on Tarsus?”

Spock’s deep, dark eyes slid back to his. “Yes. He was.”

Kirk shrugged one shoulder. “I figured. No way he’s that vulnerable without it.”

“You see him as vulnerable?” Spock asked, tilting his head.

“Don’t you?”

Spock glanced at the bathroom door, probably making sure that Jim wasn’t listening.

“Yes. He is, unquestionably. But I am surprised that you determined that from our limited interactions.”

“Spock, I _am_ him, remember? We might be different but we’re still essentially the same person.”

Spock hummed thoughtfully, but before they could say any more, Jim popped his head in.

“Spock, our healer is comming you on one channel and your dad is comming on another.”

Spock sighed and, Kirk could tell, just barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Very well. Thank you, Jim.”

He headed for Jim’s quarters and as he passed him, Jim stood up on his toes and kissed his cheek. “Hey, can I wear a Santa hat at our ceremony?”

“No.”

Jim pouted. “But it’s _Christmas_. I missed all the other celebrations. This is the only one I get.”

“Jim, not only are you my superior officer on the starship we command, but we are also a homosexual, interspecies couple, all but eloping in a ceremony that is usually planned decades in advance. Please do not introduce a Santa hat into this already fraught situation.”

“I’m putting it on as soon as the ceremony’s over.”

“As you wish,” Spock agreed, resigned, and kissed Jim once before continuing into the captain’s quarters.

Jim turned to Kirk and gave him a slightly uncomfortable smile. “Hey. Do you need anything? Have any more questions?”

“No, I’m alright, but—what was all that about? Are you and Spock getting bonded today?”

Jim stepped fully into the quarters and fidgeted with one of Spock’s statues. “Yeah.”

“When did you decide that?”

“Last night. You gonna tell me it’s too sudden and try to talk me out of it?”

“Why would I try to talk myself out of the best decision I ever made?”

Jim smiled, almost shyly, and Kirk returned it with a grin. “So it’s Christmastime?”

“It’s Christmas Day.”

Kirk’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh! Well that’s fitting. Spock and I always loved our holidays together.” After a moment, his eyes twinkled and he laughed. “So you’re literally taking me home for Christmas?”

Jim’s smile spread to a full, sunny grin that Kirk _almost_ recognized.

“That’s the plan.”

\---

In the early dawn hours, Spock rose from an unsuccessful attempt at sleep. He was not surprised at his failed efforts. Sleep had lately been elusive more often than not, and even his Vulcan body was starting to feel the effects.

In the kitchen Spock stretched his weary muscles and indulged himself by rubbing his tired, itchy eyes with the heels of his hands. It was a gesture he had picked up from Jim, his Jim, so very long ago.

No. No, it was too early to think of Jim. He must at least resist until the later part of the day, when it would no longer be possible to suppress those thoughts.

But he suspected that today it would be impossible no matter the time.

Spock made himself a cup of tea and headed for his sun porch, pausing at the doorway of his bedroom.

On his bedside table lay the pendant with Jim’s holographic image, one of only two visual representations of Jim that Spock had outside of his own memories. Spock slipped into his room and touched the metal briefly with two fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” he murmured, before resuming his course toward the porch.

Jim had loved Christmas. Always. But it had been especially significant later in their lives together, when they were usually at home on Earth for the holidays. Whether in their San Francisco flat or Jim’s farmhouse in Iowa, they had consistently decorated to a degree Spock had felt was excessive.

But he did not discourage Jim’s exuberance; how could he? Jim’s smile was more beautiful to him than anything else in the universe, and he would never begrudge something that put it on his sweet, familiar mouth.

By the time Spock made it out to the porch, he had given up trying to keep his memories at bay. As he sipped his tea and moved slowly among his plants, determining if any of them needed water, he let himself be dragged under the wave.

\----

_Spock was pouting on the couch of Jim’s farmhouse, bundled in a heated blanket. Laughing, Jim thrust a mug of cocoa into his icy fingers, leaning over to kiss his head._

_“Drink this, Spock. Maybe it’ll put you in a better mood. So you underestimated the cold—no big deal. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”_

_“I am not. I am being hard on you. You should have better prepared me before we attempted an outdoor walk in this temperature.”_

_Jim grinned, not remotely flustered by Spock’s weak protestations. “Sorry, darling. Drink up, get tipsy. I’m going to come snuggle you in a minute.” He pointed at Spock. “No grumpy Vulcans on Christmas Eve, mister. That’s an order.”_

_Jim went back into the kitchen, where Dr. McCoy and his daughter, Joanna, were making their own alcoholic drinks._

_Spock sipped his hot chocolate and edged a little closer to the fire, waiting less than patiently for his bondmate to come back and fulfill his promise._

_\----_

_Spock poured Jim a cup of eggnog in their San Francisco kitchen. He had asked Jim to remind him what his prefered holiday beverage was, and Jim had done so with the sad look in his eyes that appeared often now, whenever Spock’s memory proved slow to return._

_Spock found Jim looking out their wide picture window at the rainbow-colored lights twinkling around the bay, reflecting off the dark water. He jumped a little when Spock held out his eggnog, and Spock reasoned that he must have been lost in thought._

_“Thanks,” he said, taking the cup with a little smile. Spock joined his silent vigil at the window, and for a long time they just stood there, looking out._

_“Merry Christmas,” Jim said eventually, but his voice was far from festive._

_“And to you, Admiral– Captain. Or– Jim. Jim. My apologies.”_

_“Don’t apologize,” Jim said quietly._

_After another 3.841 minutes, Spock murmured, “I am trying.”_

_Jim looked at him, dejected._

_“You shouldn’t have to try to love me, Spock. If it’s not there now, if that part didn’t carry over in your katra, you don’t need to force it. It’s not your fault, and it’s nothing to feel bad about.”_

_Spock shook his head. He suddenly remembered very clearly that this human was stubbornly selfless and it sometimes vexed Spock to his very core._

_“I did not mean that I am trying to love you. I meant that I am trying to remember. To be the bondmate you had before. I do not_ need _to try to love you. Loving you was the first thing I knew upon waking, and the only thing for some time. You were my first memory, my first clear thought—I felt you even though our bond was broken. Please do not persist in regards to this matter.”_

_When he looked at Jim, he was grinning. It was not the reaction Spock had expected._

_“There you are,” Jim whispered._

_\----_

_Spock lay on his stomach in front of the fire, letting the warmth seep into his bare skin. Jim returned from washing up—still naked, Spock observed with satisfaction—and knelt next to Spock._

_“We should go to bed, old man. Neither of us wants to sleep on the floor.”_

_“I am not old,” Spock mumbled sleepily, Jim’s fingers running lazily up his spine. “I am barely a young adult by Vulcan standards.”_

_Jim chuckled, but after a moment Spock heard him sigh. “I worry about you. You have so much time ahead of you after I’m gone.”_

_Spock rolled over and took Jim’s face in his hands. “Let us not dwell on that now, Jim.”_

_Jim smiled down at him. “You’re right. It’s Christmas—no sad thoughts allowed.”_

_Spock observed his bondmate, the soft lights on the tree making prisms in his eyes, the firelight casting trembling shadows. “I love you, Jim.”_

_“I love you, too, Spock. More than you’ll ever know.” He stood with a small groan. “Come on, come to bed. I might give you another round as a Christmas present—if you can get it up.”_

_Spock rose fluidly and smacked Jim’s ass, the human’s hot gasp followed by a rumble of laughter._

_“I assure you, Captain—there will never be a time when it is_ my _stamina at issue.”_

_Jim got up in his space, ghosting his lips over Spock’s._

_“Prove it,” he whispered._

_Spock did._

\----

Spock realized he was standing in an uncomfortable position only when his hips and shoulders began to protest. He shook his head to clear it, the brightening dawn mist telling him he had been lost in thought for approximately 10.14 minutes.

This was going to be a difficult day.

Spock filled his watering can and attended to the plants that needed it, attempting a shallow meditation as he did so. He was not especially successful, but he did not become trapped in his own mind again, which he grudgingly accepted as a success.

As Spock watered the last plant, a shadow among the clouds caught his attention, and he straightened up with some difficulty, looking into the broad desert sky.

It was—no. It couldn’t be, certainly. If the _Enterprise_ was coming to New Vulcan, surely Jim would have informed him?

But as he squinted at the small, distant shape, he could arrive at no other conclusion. The ship’s unannounced arrival sent a spike of worry down his spine, and Spock turned to go back into his house. He would contact Jim to make sure all was well.

But before he could take even one step, Spock realized that someone was standing in the shadows at the side of his house. He jumped a little in surprise, his self-control frayed by the persistent thoughts of his bondmate and now by his worry over the young _Enterprise_ crew.

Something about this moment felt wrong, strange, and Spock blinked at the figure loitering in the sand. He thought he could see him, but unquestionably he was mistaken—his mind lacked discipline today and was now apparently hallucinating, or perhaps his vision was obscured by the still-low light. But then the man stepped closer, into the weak sunlight, and smiled softly, sadly.

“Hello, Spock.”

Spock dropped the watering can with a loud clatter that rang against the bricks.

“ _Jim?_ ”

He stepped up onto the porch. “Yes. Yes, Spock. Yes.”

Spock fell to his knees. Jim rushed to him, grabbing his arms like this was just a normal away mission, like Spock had hurt himself and his Captain was here to make sure he was alright.

Spock had effectively lost the power of speech, so he lifted his shaking hands to Jim’s face and scrabbled against it with his fingers, tracing the lines of his bones—right, right, _right_ —and digging into the skin under his eyes in an attempt to convince himself of the amber irises—not blue, _not_ _blue_ —the sweet honey eyes in his slightly round face, lined and creased and crinkled, evidence of the life they had spent together.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Jim whispered. “I promise. It’s really me.”

Suddenly Spock was sobbing. Sobbing so hard he thought he would shatter, would break.

He had a wild memory of an awful day on the _Enterprise_ , drugged and crying in a conference room, trying to find the right words to tell Jim he was in love with him and failing, miserably.

But no, no. This was not the _Enterprise_. It was this rough new world where nothing was quite right, but now—

Kneeling on the bricks across from Spock, Jim was not flustered by Spock’s emotional outburst. He simply put his arms around him and suddenly Spock found himself back home, his cheek against Jim’s shoulder, the beloved human body pressed against his. He wept as he never had, and Jim held him up with one arm around his waist, stroking his back with his free hand.

“ _Hayal_ ,” Jim whispered, in his beautifuly terrible accent. “ _Nam’uh hayal. Ka’i,_ Spock _. Ka’i. Ka’i_.”

_Here now. I’m here now._

“Jim,” Spock whined into the soft juncture of his bondmate’s neck and shoulder. The warm, familiar hand continued its progress against his back.

There was almost nothing coherent in Spock’s mind, but a vague and terrifying thread of doubt was weaving through the wordless impression of painful relief, and Spock drew back to scan Jim’s face.

“Jim—how?”

Jim reached up and gently rubbed at Spock’s tears with this thumbs. “The you and me from this universe tracked down the Nexus. Broke me out.”

Spock tried to process this. He could not make the information compute.

Jim’s hands stilled on his face. “Spock, there are so many things I need to say to you, but just—the Nexus isn’t what you thought it was. It scrambled my memories. I would have come back to you instantly, but the Nexus made me forget what we were to each other. The other me said you knew what my so-called paradise was, and I _need_ you to understand that it was an illusion. It was meant to trap me in the Nexus; nothing more. If I’m not with you, Spock, I’m not in paradise. It’s as simple as that.”

Spock was not quite certain that he understood the particulars of what Jim was saying, but he understood enough. “I suspected your mind had been altered,” he whispered.

“But you weren’t quite sure?”

“No.”

Jim’s face creased in sadness. “Oh, Spock. How could you ever doubt how much I love you?”

The only response Spock could muster was another sob. He was shaking all over but suddenly the quaking of his knees against the bricks reached an intensity that threatened to topple him. Jim, ever attentive, gripped his arms and said, “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Spock let himself be pulled to his feet and led into the house, trembling and stumbling as if he were even older than his considerable years. Jim steered him onto the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Spock knew he was likely procuring water to cool Spock’s aching, tear-choked throat, but watching him walk away was terrifying—Spock was having enough difficulty as it was assuring himself that this, that _Jim_ , was real. By the time Jim returned he found Spock sobbing anew.

“Hey,” he murmured, hurrying to him and putting aside the glass of water he had indeed obtained. “Hey, I’m right here. I was just in the kitchen. It’s ok. Hey, it’s ok.”

He sat down next to Spock and drew him close, shushing him wordlessly and running his fingers against Spock’s skin. Spock found himself, most uncharacteristically, drawing his old legs up under him and curling against his husband’s side, making himself as small as possible. His thoughts were returning in disjointed flashes, and he found himself saying mournfully, “Jim, I have grown old. I must be utterly unappealing to you.”

Jim laughed in surprise at Spock’s relatively trivial concern and swatted his back, if incredibly gently.

“Are you serious? Stop it. You’re beautiful. And besides, _I_ should probably be the one to worry—I hear you had that hot little twink of a boy captain in your bed for a year.”

Spock was fairly certain Jim was just teasing, but he whispered an emphatic reassurance anyway. “He is _not_ you. I adore him, I treasure him, but he is not you. Not you.”

Jim tightened his hold. “I know. I’m so glad he was there for you. And my god, does he care about you. This whole thing was his idea; he had to convince his Spock to go along with it. I think you being so alone was just intolerable to him. Which I get, because it’s intolerable to me, too.”

Sweet, young Jim, so selfless and protective. Had he truly done this for Spock? Risked himself, his own relationship—all for him? But what else would Spock expect? Wherever there was a Jim Kirk, he was determined to shield others, and most of all Spock, from pain.

Spock burrowed his face against the crease of Jim’s neck. He was exhausted. “I wish to restore our bond immediately,” he mumbled, aching for the touch of Jim’s mind in his, fully reassuring him of Jim’s existence. “The mind healers are busy, but I am familiar with all of them, and I am certain someone will accommodate us.”

“We could just crash our counterparts’ bonding ceremony this afternoon. Make it a double wedding.”

Spock straightened up and regarded Jim’s face—such a shock, when he caught sight of it. “Our counterparts intend to bond? Today?”

"Yep. They’ve been all shifty and clingy ever since they got me out of the Nexus. I think whatever they saw there made them want to be in each other’s heads as soon as they possibly can. They’re so angsty and young. It’s adorable.”

Spock smiled weakly. “I am gratified—I have been subtly encouraging them to bond since they became romantically involved.”

Jim laughed. The sweet, ringing sound of it brought Spock instantly back to the brink of tears. “Subtle? I think the phrase my counterpart used was ‘shoving the bond agenda down our throats.’”

Spock smiled sheepishly. “Having had you for so little time in my life, I wish for them to avoid the same heartbreak.”

Jim’s hand drifted to Spock’s mouth and his lips reflexively parted, breathing in the long-remembered taste of his husband’s skin. “No more heartbreak for you. That’s an order.”

Spock kissed one of his fingertips. “As you wish, Captain.”

Jim grinned. “Oh, and about us bonding—I think we probably don’t need a healer.” He drew his hand from Spock’s mouth and tapped his own forehead. “My half is still here. Pretty sure if you meld us my brain’s just going to grab you and refuse to let go.”

“You– but the bond was broken when you entered the Nexus.”

“Yeah, but it’s still there. I can feel it. It’s kind of like… a rope? And we had a really good reef knot in it but the rope snapped. We just need to make a new knot.”

Spock’s fingers were on Jim’s meld points before he realized what he was doing, and he was barely able to stop himself and ask permission. “May I?” he whispered shakily, but Jim just laughed again, that loud, golden sound, and leaned his face into Spock’s fingertips.

“You never need to ask, Spock.”

Spock leapt into Jim’s mind and that black, black ocean he had been drowning in suddenly burst into glittering light, sunrise over the water after such a horribly long night.

Spock could see in his mind’s eye Jim’s mental image of the bond: a weathered, hempen sailor’s rope, rough and well-used but as strong as ever. It shot out for Spock as Jim had predicted it would, and knotted itself firmly into the neurological fiber of the barren, empty place where the bond had once dwelled.

The frayed edges of Spock’s mind twined around Jim’s, and with almost no effort they were a single being again, one entity, an uncharted planet spinning on an axis of rope.

When Spock pulled out of Jim’s mind the bond was intact, and the truth of Jim’s presence and _realness_ was indisputable. Spock found himself gasping, not even crying anymore, barely able to regulate the basic functions of survival. What could he possibly need but this glowing link with the man he had thought permanently lost?

But Jim reached out and roughly rubbed his arms. “Hey now, don’t have a heart attack on me, Old Man.”

By reflex, muscle memory, Spock cocked his eyebrow in response to the reminder of his age, and Jim threw back his head and laughed again. Spock grinned, made no effort to hide it, and grabbed Jim’s hair to bring that laughing mouth against his own.

\---

The warm desert wind buffeted Spock’s robes as it swung through the place of _koon-ut-kalifee_ , kicking up small puffs of sand. Beside him, his father spoke quietly with T’Lel, one of only a few healers who had been available on such short notice. A moderate gathering of Vulcans were present; even a sudden, slightly scandalous bonding commanded a large guest list when the groom was the son of Sarek.

The circular, open-air courtyard was plain, so unlike the ceremonial land Spock’s family had once possessed on Vulcan, but most architecture was by necessity simpler now. The _koon-ut_ was ringed with stone pillars, a simple brazier in the center glowing with coals. The large, ornate gong was the only evidence of the ancient mystical traditions represented by this place.

Today, however, the _koon-ut_ looked as it never had (an almost certainly never would again). Between every pillar hung garlands of evergreen and bright red cranberries, a large golden bow affixed to each smooth column. A holly wreath lay on the ground surrounding the brazier, studded with candles and golden ornaments. And tied to the gong with ribbon, swaying in the desert breeze above Spock’s head, was a ball of mistletoe with a red bow.

The sound of bells heralded Jim’s arrival, and amid the Christmas decorations the sound took on a delightful new connotation. Sarek laid a hand on Spock’s shoulder before stepping a few yards back. The touch was suffused with warmth and fondness, and maybe even a hint of pride. Spock closed his eyes to savor the rare moment of expression from his father, who strangely enough, though they had always been at odds for their differences, was uniquely capable of understanding Spock’s desperate love for a human mate.

The bell-ringers filed in, their slow procession followed by Jim and Dr. McCoy. Jim had never looked more human than he did in his traditional Vulcan robes, and impossibly it made him even more beautiful. When he fully entered the _koon-ut_ and caught sight of the decorations, Jim stopped in his tracks and gasped audibly, looking around and around and then, finally, to Spock.

His neon eyes were flashing with tears as McCoy, in on the surprise, grabbed his friend’s sleeve and urged him forward. When he realized how emotional he had just become in a gathering of Vulcans, Jim laughed. Such a perfect, illogical reaction.

Jim reached him, coming closer than he was supposed to, the heat of his body enough to make Spock dizzy. “Did you do this just for me?” he whispered.

“Of course I did, Jim. Merry Christmas.”

Jim gave a little punched-out laugh and reached for Spock, who steered him gently to his knees before arranging their fingers in the _ozh'esta_. When T’Lel was satisfied that they were positioned correctly, she began to intone the ritual words.

“What thee are about to see comes down from the time of the beginning...”

Spock let the words wash over him and watched Jim’s eager, ecstatic face, his blinding smile, so charmingly out of place among the solemn Vulcans. As the healer touched their meld points and slipped into their minds, Jim's free hand reached out and grabbed Spock's in a very human gesture of nervous affection. Spock tucked their fingers together and laid their palms flat against each other.

For some time there was only silence and the occasional chiming of bells disturbed by the desert wind, the faint thrum of Jim’s mind in Spock’s own through their shared connection with T’Lel.

But then a burst of sensations and images and emotions exploded between them, fanning out and shimmering through both of their minds. Jim was suddenly diffused among every part of Spock, a glowing new presence settling excitedly into the heart of Spock’s bonding center. He could feel T’Lel begin to slip away, and then it was just the two of them. Never and always a part of each other.

Spock opened his eyes slowly to find Jim’s still closed, but they sprang suddenly open and he gasped. He stared at Spock with an emotion so bright it was nameless, like the glow of a new-burning sun.

Jim and Spock stood, Spock reaching out to help Jim, who was now trembling all over. They were supposed to share the _ozh'esta_ again, and they did, but Jim almost immediately leaned in and kissed Spock squarely on the mouth. Spock dropped his hand from Jim's so that he could cradle his bondmate’s face. He imagined they made a scandalous, beautiful display.

Jim broke away laughing, clearly a bit hysterical from the intensity of suddenly having a full-blown telepathic bond in his head, and while Spock spoke the necessary final words to him, he could not help but rub Jim's arm soothingly.

Jim repeated the words back, stuttering, mangling his usually proficient accent, and occasionally forgetting vocabulary that Spock gently supplied for him.

When Jim finally trailed off, the healer said, “It is done.”

She stepped aside and offered a mallet to Spock, who took it and rang the gong once. Everyone began to disperse—there was no logical reason to stay and congratulate the newlyweds as in a human wedding, and so Vulcans did not. Neither Jim nor Spock noticed anyway.

Spock pointed up at the mistletoe with a small smile, and Jim grinned, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, slumping into Spock’s arms. “This feels so _good_. Even better than it did in the Nexus.”

“That was an illusion; gratifying though it was, it could not replicate a true bond. It could not replicate this.”

“Best Christmas ever,” Jim mumbled into Spock’s neck. “Even without the Santa hat.”

Spock chuckled softly and breathed Jim in. Dr. McCoy broke their reverie by coming over, Sarek on his heels, and saying gruffly,

“Alright, I’m taking pictures and don’t even try to complain. Move back a little. I want to get the mistletoe in.”

Spock allowed Jim to manhandle him into whatever positions Dr. McCoy suggested and then those that, surprisingly, Sarek suggested. As his father and the doctor fussed over the images they had captured, Spock noticed a slight movement in the shadows all the way across the _koon-ut_. Two men were standing alone and quietly watching.

Spock nudged Jim and nodded toward their counterparts. Jim grinned, wide and sweet, and gave them a little wave. They returned it, but then slipped out of the courtyard without speaking to anyone.

“They’re not ready to talk yet,” Jim said.

“No. Spock will require time to heal. To process what has happened.”

Jim looked up at Spock, and in the glowing new bond Spock could feel his overwhelming love as well as a surge of gratitude.

“Thank you, Spock.”

“For what, _Ashal-sa-telsu_?”

“For going with me into the Nexus. For letting me try to get him back.”

“As I said last night, it was the only appropriate course of action. We are not meant to be apart, not in any reality.”

Jim leaned into him, the link a soft pulse between them. In the desert wind the ceremonial bells rang lightly, a fragmented Christmas carol. Spock closed his eyes and drifted into the bond, which he could sense Jim imagining as a golden, glittering current flowing freely between their minds. Spock let it flow over him, submerge him.

It was a little like finding a new planet, like the moment when Spock and his captain touched new alien ground for the first time. Possibility and curiosity and hope, just a shadow of fear.

The bond was a world of their own, their own planet—the native planet Spock had never really been able to find before now.

It was home.


End file.
